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Flynn Calder

Probably maybe not.

0 · 374 views · located in The Silhouette Institution

a character in “The Silhouette Institute”, as played by Not that awesome

Description



F L Y N N

The Witch Docta'



Image




B A S I C S



| Full Name |
Flynn Augustus Calder
Image
| Nickname |
Flynn just goes by Flynn.

| Age |
Seventeen

| Ethnicity |
South African-Australian. He speaks with a strange accent, almost a mix of the two,although the Australian is more prominent due to having grown up in Sydney for most of his life . He has, surprisingly, a kind of rough way of speaking. It's kind of hard to explain- Rough, but soft and calm. when angry, hie spits word through his teeth and they turn twisted and sharp. His singing voice is also quite soft.

| Gender |
Male

| Power |
Strangely, Flynn has powers normally associated with Voodoo magic, although he has no connection to voodoo at all.


  • Blood Manipulation || the ability to generate, manipulate and control the blood of oneself and that which surrounds them. this mutation often takes on similar characteristics to water manipulation, with its users holding the capacity to shape, create, solidify and animate blood in the same manner one might manipulate other liquids. often considered one of the darkest of superpowers, users may go as far as to use their ability to puppet those around them, and may also yank their life force from them if they so choose. however, humanity often overlooks the medical advantages that come with blood manipulation, such as the ability to spawn and regenerate blood not only within the user alone, but in others. those blessed with blood manipulation must tirelessly train to better their ability so as to avoid being a danger to society, and often resort to using themselves as test subjects for such exercises.

  • Animation || The power to give crude life to inanimate objects. The user can give a life to inanimate objects/substances, animating the objects to act/move on their own accord out of the user’s control; however they do seem to work in tandem to their animator. This could range from water bottles to toys. Sometimes the the objects will get out of hand and begin to grow a life of their own. A when this happens the user, he can just effectively 'kill' the object and force it to become inanimate again.

  • Disease Mimicry || The power to induce the effects of disease for a short period of time on themselves or an opponent. It does this by speeding the disease process immensely, the effects slowly building until their most painful points. The effects descend afterwards. It leaves no side affects at all, and the pain only lasts around a minute. This does not extend to mental illnesses, only physical ilnessess and is most effective with diseases such as rabies, heart attacks etc. which cause the most pain.

  • Mild Mediumship || User can view ghosts/spirits of deceased and communicate with them, even if they have possessed inanimate objects/subjects/people. They are able to repel and run spirits away from an area, and may even view a visual conception of a spirit world in a trance if desired.

  • Summoning || The user psychically transports spirits by means of slight necromancy with difficulty users can summon forth powerful entities or "familiar spirits" and often require strong mystic connections to where these entities reside. The summoning can backfire, however, leading to any number of misfortunes, such as the summoned person, creature, or item causing harm to the summoner, unless the being is a familiar, in which case they trust the summoner too much.

  • Shadow Animation || The user can transform their own shadows into living beings. As the rule of anything happening to the real body happens to the shadow, this ability may allow the user to manipulate the body and cause damage of reality by attacking the shadow. This means anything that happens to the shadow will be reflected in the true body; in short, a form of "reverse" shadow puppetry. Flynn usually just talks to his shadow when there is no one else, and is often seen walking around talking to it. It’s called Chandler
[/font]


L O O K S


| Eye color |
Blue
Image
| Hair Color |
Blonde

| Skin Tone |
Medium

| Height |
Six feet tall.

| Distinct Markings |
Permanent scars cover his hands in a range of white lines. His hands are really badly damaged any way you look at them.[/font]



P E R S O N A L I T Y



| Likes |
Chandler || Love || France || Being Safe

| Dislikes |
His Father || Fake people || Thunder || Being called a freak
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| Personality |
Headstrong, oh yeah. The boy rushed into everything without thinking. Stubborn too, I'd say so. What's it to you? I don't think sometimes but that doesn't mean I'm stupid. Maybe I do try to feel my screaming ego more than I should. I've made mistakes, yes, but they haven't changed me as a person. I'm not adaptable to change, I'm stubborn. People call me evil, call me freak and a demon. Don't care much about what they think, because their opinions don't matter to me. I'm used to abuse, I was shaped through abuse and made what I am because of what I've been through. Guess you could say I'm weathered, I'm accustomed to it. Sure he thought he could take anything they threw at him, but every word still cut deep. Freak. The word is a curse on him, a plague.

Flynn knows he has problems, he knows there are things wrong with him. And even though there is fear there he is determined and strong enough to not let it rule him. Stubborn to the point of idiocy it takes him a long time to make his mind up, but when he has it is almost impossible to make him change it. Clever, but sometimes rather foolish, truly- Flynn is kind-hearted. But there is something within him that overshadows her goodness, and even though sometimes you can forget that there is something terribly wrong with him it is always there, a dark presence within his heart and soul.

He's very reserved, and may even come across as cold when you first meet him. He's not the most social person, preferring to stay in a tight circle of friends.

Even now, where he is with others very much similar to him, a select few treat him a little differently because of his well, dark powers. There has been a few rumors flying about pertaining the boy and his unusually macabre abilities, although those who know him know his powers are skin-deep. Although macabre and frankly weird, his powers can be pretty downright scary. Sometimes, the newbloods are frightened of him, but he does not take offense and knows it's given. Usually they start to warm-up to him tolerate him after a while. He has a sort of Jekyll and Hyde mentality when he battles. If you looked at him, you'd definitely know something was different. He goes into battle mode complete with a mad gleam in his eye when challenged, so don't expect him to go soft on you. I don't expect you to go soft on him either. A lot of people have commented on his, although he doesn't notice it.

Sometimes, Flynn likes to act like a psychic for friends- like one of those old ladies you see advertised in newspapers claiming to be able to talk to the spirits, except he's the real deal. It's kind of his erm... party trick in a way, although he genuinely likes to please the ones that he loves. Flynn is a truly sweet boy, kind, helpful and sometimes has a tendency to blend in to the crowd if he wishes.

Despite this, there will always be two sides to Flynn. His anger, that little monster that has buried itself so deep in his core, scares even Flynn himself sometimes. It's so violent that he trembles with its aggression, his body quivering as he attempts to keep it within. When his hands tingle with the desire to hurt and kill, he goes so far within himself he swears he’ll never return. Everyone always says they wish they could escape, wish they could see who they were as a person, but Flynn? He already knows. He has stared into his core and seen a monster full of hate that salivates for freedom. He left that little piece of himself back near his core, back near the beast that begs to see a world it has only encountered once. Maybe it has eaten it already.

Suprisingly, he loves to sing. Singing is an escape for him, he can get in touch with himself more. Most people don't know that Flynn enjoys singing, but as long as he knows himself nothing else really matters. He sings softly to himself wherever he goes – studying for test, when he’s lying in bed and just about to fall asleep, and even when he’s quietly going around doing his own things. He only begun singing when he was thirteen. He’s entirely sure how it started, but one day he felt so upset and angry and frustrated that instead of yelling, he began singing. It felt right, like it had always been a part of him, just trying to find its way out of him. Now Flynn looks back on it, he actually wonders how he survived for twelve years without singing. It's a part of him now, the soft, tender side of Flynn that stays locked away, the side that no one but him, as far as he knows, gets to see.




H I S T O R Y


| History |
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My childhood was a series of flashbacks- memories both amazing and traumatizing. I can’t explain my past, but I’ll do my best with the memories. Before Silhouette, People called me freak more than they call me Flynn. I put on that blank expression and walk away, every time. Anger is a disease, y'can't let it spread. I don't get angry anymore, not like I used to.

My father. I can barely remember him, but I know he was evil. Mother always tells us what a horrible person he was. After my sister’s birth, he just… vanished. Packed up his belongings and left in search of a better life. Nobody knows what happened to him. Mother says he took off, but why would he bother? Like I said, my father left when I was 7, so I didn’t really know him. He was always out working, while mother stayed at home and looked after me. Mother says he was a cruel, cold-hearted man who only cared about himself. She has said numerous times before that she didn’t even know why she married him, and the only good thing that came from their marriage was me and my sister. That always makes me smile. But I can’t help feeling like there is a big hole in my chest, a huge part of my childhood missing.

[size=150]A G E 5[/size]


”Dadda, how did I get deaf?”

”Listen closely Flynn. Listen to every last word…”

You would have been, maybe 2? It wasn’t too long ago. Yes, 2. You had just begun to walk. Your mother was overjoyed, me... meh. Anyway, she thought it was a brilliant idea to get as many people that lived around us to come over and see you walking for the first time. She sent me out to go get people over, and your mother frantically started working to prepare as much food as she could.

She had just put some boiling hot water on the counter, and had to leave the house for something; it was so unimportant that I can’t even remember what she left for. You must have been just walking around the house, not a care in the world, and must have slipped or something, accidentally bumping the counter. You have to understand we were very poor and could hardly afford a sturdy bench. As you bumped the counter, the boiling hot water crashed down, right on top of you. Luckily, you were lying on the right side of your body, so the water only hit the left side of your face. Most of it went straight into your ear, though, so that’s good. Sooner or later we raced in after hearing your screams, and you can imagine what it was like. Everyone was horrified; I guess nothing like that had ever happened before. Your mother fainted, which wasn’t really much help. But anyway, some random old lady raced out to get some Ambulance and they were all in our house in no time. You got surgery on your ear, but never heard another word in it after that. Your mother never really forgave herself for what happened. She tries to forget it, but it’s not easy I guess, knowing you were responsible for something that terrible happening to your son”


A G E 10


“This is not acceptable and very strange, Mrs Calder. Where did he get the blood from anyway? My son nearly choked.” The woman yelled, crocodile tears spilling down her cheeks. She was always like this- they first to slink away from any violence. I must’ve got anger issues from my dad.

“I’m very sorry Ms Fratelli” My mother said, looking rather flustered at even slight conflict.

“Where did you get the blood from Flynn?” She asked me sternly, and I suddenly felt ashamed of what I had done, although it wasn’t really my fault.

“I made it” I replied matter-of-factly

“You cut yourself” She said in horror, turning my arm over for sign of a wound. She looked frantic.

“No. I touched the fountain and it turned into blood.” I said again, looking back at the two women blankly while they looked at me like I belonged in a mental asylum. They were speechless.

The mother told the boy to come in, and he scurried in, looking lke he would sink in to his own sweater if given the chance. The mother asked the boy if what I said was true and the boy nodded his head.

That was the last time I was in public school. The only time someone truly normal knew my secret. I went to France shortly after.

As I grew up, I learnt to look after myself more and more. When my little sister came along, she didn’t have a father, and at the time my mother was burying herself in work to hide her anguish. So not only did I have to look after myself, but I took on the responsibility of my younger sister, Stella, as well. But I love her. She’s one of the only things that makes this life worthwhile. She spends more and more time with me every day, even though I have to work quite often. Our age difference doesn’t bother us – 7 years isn’t that much different, really – and it saddens me sometimes that soon she might develop a power. I don’t want her to turn out like me – indifferent, sarcastic, macabre, and weird – nothing good can come from any of that. I want the best for her, as well as for my mother, who, thankfully, is gradually getting better. I might be in France, but I won’t abandon my family, ever. Love is one of the only good emotions that I can relate to. Love for my family. Nothing means more to me than them, no matter how messed up we all are.

So maybe I’m not an entirely bad person after all.




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T H E M E S O N G

W o l v e s | B o n I v e r

Someday my pain, someday my pain

Will mark you

Harness your blame, harness your blame

And walk through



With the wild wolves around you

In the morning, I'll call you

Send it farther on



Solace my game, solace my game

It stars you

Swing wide your crane, swing wide your crane

And run me through



And the story's all over you

In the morning i'll call you

Can't you find a clue when your eyes are all painted Sinatra blue



What might have been lost -

Don't bother me

So begins...

Flynn Calder's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Atheya Vera Character Portrait: Donovan Strider Character Portrait: Lysander Marcelle Character Portrait: Flynn Calder Character Portrait: Jessie Morgan Character Portrait: Olive Flowe Character Portrait: James Garritsen Character Portrait: Katrina Hyde Character Portrait: Scott Kearny Character Portrait: Jon Dunaway Character Portrait: Benjamin Cesar Mason Character Portrait: Theodore "Todd" Bronte Character Portrait: Spencer Stone
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Atheya found herself at one of the few back doors of the Institute that lead outside. This one was generally left unguarded at the night, when darkness fell over the sky. She had providentially found out about this particular exit as a New Blood when she liked to sneak out to the back woods and walk around, in which she still does to this day, and was about to go do. She actually was only a New Blood a short year ago; coming here after one of the teachers found her stirring up trouble in New Orleans. Well, not exactly stirring up trouble, more or less just being careless with her powers and scaring the living day lights out of people. She had changed now of course until coming to this place; she grew to be not as much as a hard ass. Now she was actually rather kind and caring, and could control and know when to hold back her powers. But that’s what the Silhouette Institute does; it helps people with these anomalous powers to let them control it. She had been thankful to them, and not only because of the fact her constant migraines had now become only small headaches. She did, however, still suffer from insomnia. All of this was due to the fact Atheya had the ability to connect her mind with others, she found her mind always was ticking like a clock, and because of herself constantly having to hold back such mind links, which now was a fairly easy thing to do, it rendered her useless when she tried to calm her head down. You could imagine how all her shields would be down in sleep, leading her to literally walk through others dreams. You know, when she did sleep.

But yes, mind linking is her knack. She can create a link between herself and with the minds of others. The metaphor she often uses to paint an image of it is like a signal from one phone, to another. Like an invisible wire connecting the two. With this link, she can do many things, but it hadn’t always been that way. She grew up in Hereford, England up until the age of ten. Both her parents were loving and didn’t give a damn their daughter could hear their thoughts or walk through dreams, no matter how surreal or impossible it seemed. It was simply put that the family was fairly healthy, but that was until the death of the two. They had gone on a trip to New York City for the young girls tenth birthday. She had always begged them to go, she thought it would seem as wonderful as in all the movies. Yeah, she didn’t think that now after what she witnessed. They were walking back to the hotel from dinner, when some guy jumped out at her mother. Her father pushed Atheya back, so she was not seen. She witnessed both her mother and father get mugged, and stabbed. After the man in the black clothing whit the bloody drenched knife left, the young small girl ran crying only to have people rush over and call ambulances. After that, it was all rushed, she was sent back to England, to social services, unknowing of what was to happen to her. Unfortunately, both sides of the family had no close relatives, only holding distant cousins and such. The family didn’t even have any close friends that could take her in, so she was shipped off to London by Child Services and placed into a lonesome and low budget orphanage, being shipped from foster home to foster home only having one family she loved. She didn’t like to think about them any more. It hurt.

But regardless of all that, New York and her birthday was pretty much ruined for her. It sucked that the date of all this was coming up shortly as well.

Pushing open the wooden oak door, she took in the crisp cool air of the night into her lungs, breathing out a long sigh. It was a little cold out to be wearing the outfit she was without a jacket but to be frank, she preferred it like that. The cold didn't bother her. She actually laughed a bit at her own outfit, as it consisted of a white shirt in which she never wore. She found herself to prefer darker clothing, but she guessed tonight was an exception. Maybe she unintentionally balanced herself out from her dark surroundings. Putting on her head phones, she walked on further away from the tall, old historical building in which the institute lied, and made her way into the back woods and down the trail that was made after years and years of people walking along it.

She walked for awhile, in silence listening to her soft music, glad her cellphone hadn't buzzed or anything. It was nice to be by herself at times, and the night time before everyone was asleep was a good time. She often came back when everyone made their way to the dorms, but barley ever slept. A good night, she would get maybe four hours of senseless dreams, sometimes hers, sometimes not.

Brushing away a looming trees ragged branches, it came back to smack her on her arm, creating a small line of red along her pale smooth skin. It had cut her, slightly. Touching it, it felt a bit sore, but a few scrapes was not uncommon when she walked in the wood. Ignoring the small stain of scarlet red that touched her white sleeve, it gave her another reminder of why she wore dark clothes. Finding the small clearing she found herself stopping at most of the times, she sat down on the soft grass, and lied down slightly, the back curve of her neck almost perfectly moulded for the fallen log covered in moss behind her, giving her a small head rest so she still sat up in the slightest. The song Werewolves by Cat Power shuffled on, and the melancholy sound just made the whole scene she was in feel surreal... strange. Dream like. It's one f those moments she wished she had brought her sketch book. But sitting here, in the night, the cool wind brushing her arm like tender strokes, was enough.

"He don't even break the branches where he's gone, once I saw him in the moonlight, when the bats were a flying, I saw the werewolf, and the werewolf was crying..." She sang quietly under her breath, glancing up at the night sky, stars easily shown as if she where far far away from the institute and all that came with it.

It was a Sunday and classes would start back up tomorrow.

She would need to leave soon.

But not yet.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Flynn Calder
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Everything is silent.

Where are the sounds? The sound of metal on metal as swords of the students having a late practice clash against each other, every person fighting to keep their pride. Where were they? His mind races as he grabs a sword, his fingers tightening around the shiny and gleaming metal of the blade.

In a brief millisecond everything disappears. Determination, will, and survival lost and agony gained. Everything is black. Darkness clouds his vision as fast as he can imagine as his fingers lose hold of the weapon he had just picked up, the sword hitting the ground, his body immediately following it.The last thing he heard, the last thing he saw before everything was gone is a bone chilling cackle from skeletal spirit with a curtain of black hair.

"You shouldn't have messed with me Flynn..."

He woke up a few short moments later, his hands on his head as he tried to decipher what had just happened. He pushed his palms (covered with blood, naturally) on the floor and pushed himself up, and he tried not to meet the eyes of the others in the training center. It was an irregular occurrence for a spirit to interfere with his life, and usually it was something simple. His skin was ivory from the spirit, and his head spun with dizziness.

It was Russian roulette being able to summon spirits. Occasionally, this would happen, and it would take some time to smooth things out with the spirit. He could not recall the spirit though, and he was not sure what the being wanted with him. He is tangled in his own thoughts - nightmares from last night, his mother many years ago, making him promise he wouldn't endanger himself. She meant that he wasn't to go out and play with his 'imaginary friend' Chandler.

He shook his head and walked out of the training room. The boy pulled his hands in to fists and then opened them and the blood that covered his skin morphed in to a sphere in front of him. He pulled his hand into a fist once more and the blood evaporated in to nothing. It was school tomorrow, and it was yet another first day. He had been at the academy since he was eleven, so first days were almost routine for him.

After an exasperated sigh, he made his way through the hallways to his dorm.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Atheya Vera Character Portrait: Flynn Calder Character Portrait: Katrina Hyde Character Portrait: Scott Kearny
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#, as written by Saerith
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Spencer threw herself in bad, shutting her eyes tightly. Her head was spinning, a bitter taste in her mouth. It seemed for her like she would never fit in anywhere. For some reason, people seem to have a hard time not being assholes around her. She reached out to her desk beside the bed, groping around, trying to find her pack of cigarettes and her iPod. They where both right under a lamp which was still on, and she quickly retracted her hand when it got burned. "Shit" she grumbled under her breath and looked at the lamp like it had just bit her. She was certainly not having the best of days.

Once her cigar was lit, hanging from the corner of her mouth, and she had both her year plugs on, she sighted deeply. Her first day in The Institute would begin in just a few hours and she was already not quite loving her new home. Of course it couldn't be worse than the previews one, but apparently, refusing to demonstrate her powers was not exactly a good idea. Well, but it's also not exactly like all students and teachers were eager to help her with the demonstration. She granted everyone it would only last a few minutes, but none really seemed to believe her. No wonder, she thought, and giggled. She realized she probably was not suppose to be smoking in the room an put out her cigar in the ash tray she had carefully adjusted on the night stand.

One of her favorite songs came up, Pins and Needles, and it brought a slight amused smile to her lips. At least she was not the only outcast there. A few other students could also not demonstrate their abilities or had some useless ones, really. Although Spencer wasn't very fond of her own power, being as destructive and hard to control as it was, she had to admit it was rather useful.

The sound of the metallic guitar in her ears and the memories of her first afternoon in that odd place made her inspired for the first time in a few months, so she got up and searched her bag for her drawing pad and pencil case. Once she had both in hand, she sat close to the wooden desk, her eyes traveled to the night sky outside her window, dark and filled with stars. The mechanical pencil she held begin to create form in the paper, some vines in a strange format. Then, flowers, and, between them, a girl. Her hair was constituted of the plants she drew before. She remember her delicate face from the presentation earlier, when that particular girl had ran away from the class after being called some awful names. She proceeded to draw a large tear making her way down her cheek.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Atheya Vera Character Portrait: Lysander Marcelle Character Portrait: Flynn Calder Character Portrait: Katrina Hyde Character Portrait: Scott Kearny Character Portrait: Spencer Stone
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In an instant, the clouds outside the window became like waves in a calm ocean and the plane’s wings like a boat’s ores dipping gently into the night’s sky. As the world bent around him, he leaned his head against the window, which was covered in a cold frost, and looked at France as it unfolded beneath him. While the normal things—like buildings, streets, and real people—were shrouded in darkness, he could see the faint glow of the abnormal things playing outside his window. There was a young girl running. She playfully chased a deformed rabbit against the current of the liquid clouds. There was a woman crying right beside him. It seemed she had just lost her son. While in reality, Lysander was surrounded by silence and the faint hum of the plane’s engines; through his eyes he could see a whole other world boom with life around him.

But these sights were abnormal only to those who hadn’t experienced them before. The girl chasing the rabbit had been running outside the plane the whole flight and the crying woman seemed to have been crying forever and probably had no intention to stop. As he grew bored of pacing up and down the airplane, listening to the distressed woman wailing in the background, and making faces at the dumb Institute scouts who sat in the cockpit, Lysander decided it was time to leave. He grabbed his lantern, sank through the floor of the airplane, and floated down to the streets of France.

When he landed, he landed in the exact location he had aimed for: a street in the remote outskirts of France. He listened intently to the silence that consumed the buildings, and waited for something—anything—to make a sound. His steps, pattering against the old, stone streets, led towards an old church resting behind the safety of a large iron gate. It was locked, but Lysander passed through it easily.
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“This is it,” he whispered as he looked with awe at the door of the Institute. It was a wooden door, covered by the marks and decay of age. Above it were stone carvings from what looked to be of a distant era. Admiring the door he ignored the angry nun that passed by him. She seemed to be replaying the events of her sisters’ death. But Lysander saw the likes of this before, and was more interested in the architecture of the church than the ectoplasmic violence that occurred behind him.

With a weakness for the aesthetic, he was stuck reveling in the beauty of the church until the plane his body rid on zoomed overhead. It, for a moment, broke the dead silence that deafened the streets, but then disappeared into the dark clouds as it made its way towards the airport in Paris. He would dread having to make the trek back up here again when the plane finally touched down, but for now he was curious to see what kind of people the Institute would house inside.

Slipping through the locked doors of the Institute, Lysander listened closely. A group of students played poker in the library, another group told stories near the warmth of a fireplace, while another listened to the instructors of a New Blood orientation, which he should have been attending. A girl wandered off into the woods, another girl drew sketches flowing from the reservoir of her pain, while another girl walked back to her dorm room in frustration. He could hear it all, though they were faint echoes and hardly distinguishable to his ear, with enough training he would one day be able to understand them. But what called out to him most of all was anything but subtle. Even from far away he could see spurts of its darkness dance off of it like the movements of solar flares whipping against the sun. Lysander stepped back, almost scared to go near it, but his curiosity got the better of him and seduced him to continue forward. With his lantern trembling in his hand, he made his way toward the room. From what he could tell, it was some sort of gym, but weapons and blades lined its walls. Before he could go any further a voice shouted out to him from the darkness, “It’s time to wake up,” it said. It was Edward’s, but Lysander knew better than to believe his dear brother was back.

Long ago, when Edward was training Lysander to traverse the spirit world, he would say those words so that Lysander’s spirit would know to come back before it could travel too far away from his body. Though it was weird that his travels had been cut so short, he justified it with the distance that his body must’ve had made away from him while riding on board the airplane.

“It’s a mere memory,” Lysander growled to himself as he began ascending into the night’s sky again in order to reclaim his physical body. A few seconds later, he woke up, gazing out at the night sky, this time at nothing more than what was mundanely there. The plane landed gently into the Paris airport and the Institute scouts led him back towards the location he had already been at. For now, the presence he encountered in the church would elude his mind as his focus would turn away from such matters and turn towards how he would go about finding his brother. But even more immediate than that, his mind raced to find answers to how he would face his first day of school.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Atheya Vera Character Portrait: Lysander Marcelle Character Portrait: Flynn Calder Character Portrait: Jessie Morgan Character Portrait: Katrina Hyde Character Portrait: Scott Kearny Character Portrait: Spencer Stone
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Jessie laid there on the institutes roof top, her earphones in staring up at the inky black sky that was littered with glittering stars. She always came up here when she wanted to think or relax, just to get away from all the other noises and drama down below and just drown everything out with her music. Her ipod had randomly picked a song, It started to play and a small smile crossed the girl's face, It was Drive By by Train, a song that Jessie couldn't help but to smile at whenever it played because she thought it was cute. The brunette played the song low to set the relaxing mood just right as a warm summer breeze rolled by. There was school tomorrow, yes that much was true but Jessie wasn't tired not yet anyway, that's the whole reason she came up here in the first place. When she was a new blood she had trouble falling asleep so she found a way to get up to the roof with ease and stare at the sky until her eyes got heavy but it was also a problem because she would usually fall asleep outside then had to rush in the morning to shower and all before class started.

Her eyes scanned the night sky slowly her eyes landing on all the stars before the huge milky orb that stood high in the sky as if it was watching her instead of the other way around. The warm summer breeze made Jessie remember the summer time when she was young, she would play outside in hot summer nights with her sister playing street basketball. She would stay up late with her little sister and play until their arms and legs hurt but then that day happened. The day when her mother died, her sister and her was put into the system because they had no close family members that they knew of to take them in. After that she became only trusting of her sister and no one else but then her sister too was taken away from her, it may sound mean but Jessie sometimes can't even remember her sisters face but is lucky enough to have a picture of them together even though if she found her now she would probably look nothing like she does in the picture. The expression on her face changed to a slight frown quickly shaking this thought from her head.

Shifting a bit Jessie placed her arms behind her head and slowly closed her eyes breathing in the summer air that seemed to smell of trees and... something sweet that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Jessie's nose was always more sensitive than her other senses which made her smell things from a far and track pretty good. She never told anybody about this of course like she had someone to actually talk to in the first place. Her Ipod now played Under Control by Ellie Goulding. Jessie could feel her eyes getting heavy as in her head she cursed to herself. Damn Jessie stay awake! You can't fall asleep outside again, you're going to give yourself a cold now get up! Her eyes got heavier and heavier until she couldn't hold it anymore the low beats of the song relaxing her to the point that she was fast asleep. Crap, I'm not going to make i-.

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Character Portrait: Atheya Vera Character Portrait: Flynn Calder Character Portrait: Jon Dunaway Character Portrait: Spencer Stone
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Closed eyes. Through Atheyas now closed eyes, erupted a more open world around her. The sounds of the leaves bristling through the soundless air stream, the soft resonance of the stream nearby that could only be heard if you listened with the intent of hearing it. She turned her music down to a near in-audible noise, which was now a soft guitar played melody she habitually found herself playing on her own guitar. Maybe Atheya would skip going back to her dorm, and sleep out here for the hours of darkness called night, to only be awoken by the stream of the sun’s rays that would flow through the small opening the leaves of the trees let. She missed nature, she missed being in nature. After she had run away the intolerable foster system, she travelled. She had been to the biggest cities of America, to the smallest villages in Europe. The single only thing she regretted was the fact she had only been to India once. Of all the places, New Orleans had to be the last. She had wondered if she had never went to that jazz festival, she wondered if she never went to that single concert that the staff here wouldn’t have pinpointed her. Well it’s too late now.

She didn’t hate the Institute, in fact she was grateful. Instead of hearing the nasty thoughts of those around her, she could actually block them out. She didn’t have to feel the guilt of others now. Now, she only had to feel her own guilt. But that was the thing about this place. Everyone had a story, everyone's often as equally screwed up and sad as the next one. To be honest Atheya cared more about others then she did herself, and if someone needed to talk or what having an awful day, she would be there. Doesn’t matter who, doesn’t even matter when. Any person who knew her, knew of that fac-

Someone's here.

She felt it. The mental nudge of someone else's brain activity trying to ungentlemanly connect to hers. It was odd. It wasn't regular, it was... fuzzy. Like a static that rang through those invisible wires. It didn't particularly block her, it just made things more unclear. But she could tell it wasn't a mentality she had connected to before, as the bond of it all was weak. If she had connected with some ones brain more, she would find herself accidentally slipping into it more and more, her mental wall breaking down over time making it more complicated to stop. So this? This was not a problem. Just an odd indifference. She found herself never wanting to read others thoughts at all, and would ever actively seek to do so. It was their privacy. She didn't ask to be able to access memories or know their secrets.

A nudge at her headphones. That's when it all made sense. A magnetic user, someone pretty good with electronics. The feed back made a bit of sense now. Pushing herself up off the ground, she took out her ear buds, and let them fall over her shoulder, and through the quiet you could still hear the same song playing through them. That was until the boys voice broke through. Glancing up as he showed himself, she gave a curious look with her evergreen eyes, ones that where as dark as the tree's leaves in the night. Even in the dark, it was easy to tell that his smile was partially forced. She wasn't too bad at reading people as a whole.

A small tug played at the edge of her red painted lips, as she stretched up her arms and let out a yawn. "I was out for a walk, and it seems my little clearing has been compromised." She said, still glancing up at him as she dropped her up-stretched arms. "I'm not particularly one to actually do duties like that for the Institute." She commented, her British accent laced within her words like always. "They don't really seem to ask me many questions any more, haven't caused trouble since I was a newbie last year. But you, I wouldn't be surprised if you got blamed for a bit of things, Jon." She pin pointed out, not particularly trusting of him yet. She only just suddenly recalled his name as she remembered seeing him around once or twice.. But this was odd behaviour for her. Often she would be kind, but right now her small sarcastic attitude came out. Maybe it was because she was actually tired for once.

Continuing on, she said "Anything that goes wrong electrically, you would probably be first to blame right? Anywhere from screwing up some ones laptop, to ultimately shutting down lights city wide." Wow, maybe the fact that the buzz playing softly in her head did bother her just a bit. Or maybe it was because of the fact he did just call her Superlative, in which she wasn't to appreciative of. She didn't care for the ranks, and wasn't one to think she was better because of it. To her, everyone was an equal. She was also quite curious about the whole electrical thing too, as her voice would show. She didn't sound like she was accusing the boy of anything when she spoke. Her tone sounded exactly as it was supposed to. Interested in the subject. "Any ways, that's just me rambling, sorry." She laughed, moving past him, giving him a small pat on the shoulder. Turning around she continued to still walk down the path back to the dorms. "I'll be seeing you later Sparky." She spoke, giving her regular smile. "In hopes that you'll call me by my actual name too; Atheya." She called back. Slipping back on her earphones as she moved out of sight, the song that she had been listening to before, coming to an end.

It didn't take too long for her to find her way back to the Institute. Maybe it did, but Atheyas pondering mind didn't keep track. As she left the boy standing there, her head became clearer, and when it did she realized something. She had come face to face with an electrical user before once, and never had there been interference with her own head, and that made sense, considering the electrical user before hadn't been using powers, and so there would be no charge buzzing that would catch her out reaching mental signals. She had come to the conclusion during her walk back that Jon must have been using his power during when they where speaking, or just had on larger scale then just making her ear buds nudge. Now she was really curious.

Opening the oak door in which she let herself out from, she peeked around the corner, before slipping inside, and walking down the empty halls. She was just about to round the corner in where the training room was placed, but stopped, and backed against the wall as she saw Flynn, another Superlative student who was her friend, leaving the training room, head shaking and fists clenched. She could just feel a bad vibe radiating off of him, and concern welled up in the girls stomach. She felt like he probably wouldn't have wanted her to rush up in that moment asking questions, and felt like he should probably get some rest in which she figured by the time, he was going to do.

After a couple of minutes, she pressed her palms against the cool stone of the beautiful building, and pushed her self from the wall, making her way also down the girls dorms hallway, and to her own dorm door. Opening it, she shut it behind her as she stepped in, she slid down to the ground, sitting on the floor, grabbing her phone. She was still worrying about Flynn. Opening up the messenger thing, she shot him a quick message saying "Didn't get to see you today, hope every things well, night~" It would be stupid to send his something along the lines of asking if he where fine or okay. She had been asked that too many times, and knew that it was the most damned question in the universe. She just knew that it made her feel better that someone was at least there and saying something. Even if it was just a tiny message.

Sitting back up, she set her phone down on the night stand, and slid into her bed, now suddenly too exhausted to even change out of her day clothes. It seemed for once on her life, sleep greedily came.

And then she was aware. She was in a space unknown, a dream. It wasn't hers either. No, she was too aware. It was someone else's.

"This should be fun." She stated, glancing around the surroundings for the unfortunate person that got to meet her like this.





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Character Portrait: Atheya Vera Character Portrait: Flynn Calder Character Portrait: Theodore "Todd" Bronte
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To Flynn, a dreamless sleep is the most preferable.

He doesn't get dreams. They are left way back in his childhood, when ignorance was bliss and bad thoughts rarely crossed his mind. The definition of the very word is skewed to him. Ever since his powers really started to come to life, he has had severe night terrors that shake his very soul and make the boy despise the night time.

As he wakes up, the absence of the sinking feeling of the terrors makes him smile a little. The windows cast a pale light on to his room, highlighting every dust particle floating through it's space. After a handful of minutes sitting on the windowsill staring at the view, he changes his clothes to his default outfit. It is maybe mid-morning at the moment, the perfect time to wake up in his opinion. Usually it would be earlier that he wakes (from a dream, mostly.) but since today was perfectly undisturbed he was later than usual.

Taking a glance around his room, a certain bottle catches his eye. It is a clear moonshine borne from the nearly rotted potatoes of neighbors fields. It tastes like hellfire—burned on the way down his throat and into his stomach. Its only purpose? To numb the feeling of terror. A sip usually did the trick. It was not something he is proud of, but the terror that made him feel as if he was made of pure ice begged to be dulled down by something. Anything. But in the bottom of the bottle, there are no answers. Downcast eyes search for something, to find only their own reflections, distorted and mute in the glass. Hollow people become transparent when you stare at their reflections long enough, especially when the poisonous grasp of alcohol is sparkling in their system. He takes the bottle in his hands and hides it behind a counter.

Pulling his rucksack on to his back he takes his phone from the top of his bedside table. He had one text, and he knew only one person that would text him in these circumstances. Atheya.

Didn't get to see you today, hope every things well, night~

A smile threatens the corners of his lips as he reads the text. It was nice to know that someone could care enough about Flynn to send him a message. A simple message of half a dozen words, but a message- a phone call, a chat, a wave- shows that the person in question cares. It was a good feeling.

Sorry I didn't text you back last night- I went straight to sleep. Things are surprisingly good, though. See you in class.

Feeling rather chipper for reasons unknown, Flynn heads out the door, leaving the firm grasp of night behind him for another day. There is sparse crowds that fill the hallways, making it harder for him to walk along them. Making a decision to go outside for a while, he walks along a corridor to an obscure back door, pushing it open and inhaling cold air.

The climate of France was not what the boy was used to. Being tossed from Johannesburg to Sydney got you used to perpetual warmth. It was mild enough- today, anyway- but he sees the faint outline of warm breath on cold air as he exhales. Bored after a short stroll, he makes his way back into the school the same way he left it. There is considerably more people now, and he gives a short exasperated sigh.

A feather lies next to his heart, in a little glass bottle with the key to his most precious things, tucked away in a box. It thuds against his heart as a slow-motion pulse, creeping through the crowd. An earthquake rumbles through his limbs and he feels it in his veins forcing his body to keep moving, keep moving, keep moving. If he doesn't, he'll surely fall apart.

Whispers fly around him as he walks down the hallways, and he avoids the eyes of the whisperers.

"It's Flynn.. the one who like summoned a demon in class. Shit that was scary."

Okay, that one was true. It had been an accident, honest mistake- whatever you want to name it. He had dabbled in summoning demons, but usually they would ignore him. He still has burn scars.

"Who?"

He liked being unknown, and hoped to keep it that way. He left the hallway at that moment, realising he was slightly early for class but he had decided to read a little bit of a book before the others came. He took a chair and sat down, flicking open the pages of 'The Art of War' and waiting for the others.

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Character Portrait: Atheya Vera Character Portrait: Flynn Calder Character Portrait: Theodore "Todd" Bronte Character Portrait: Spencer Stone
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((Giggle))




Midnight

“Is this the Institute?” Atheya asked herself intriguingly, glancing around her surroundings in a small turn around. She knew this place. It was the... second floor music room. Yep, that was it. Her bare feet where cold on the ground as she stepped around the area, and she begun to shuffle through some of the papers that were scattered around. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, just the same as it usually was. How odd was it that someone would dream of the school like it was a regular day? A lot of people here had terrible night terrors. Maybe this was just a common dream or one where the person walks into the classroom in their underwear. She ran into one of those once when she was fifteen and in a public school when she fell asleep in the library. The kid himself whose dream she was in must have been asleep in the class next to her. “Maybe it’s one of the New Kids.” She said, trying to possible deduct what was happening so she didn’t have any anomalous run ins. But, there was only one way to really find out, she had to find the dreamer.

Sauntering out of the room, she made her way down the common hallway, and down the stairwell that led to the bottom foremost floor, and she glanced around with a blink of her emerald eyes once more. “Hello?” She called out, her British tone ringing and bouncing off the walls in echoes, no way meticulously. She was way too familiar with this lobby. It kind of reminded her a bit of a those cool lobbies in five star hotels, and she had drawn ever nook, cranny and detail many times. The ceilings were up in pinnacle so great it would fit a god inside, the floors where an old marble that you could almost see the history in its curves, and the large paned windows surrounded by their arches shaped kindly along the walls, and you could peer easily outside. There where couches and tables for the students and the visitors the institute never got, and even a desk for a security guard or two to stand at. In fact, Atheya just noticed the faceless guard behind the cherry wood desk. “How strange...” She questioned, stepping forward a step as if to peer closer, even though she was still far back from the faceless chap. She was going to walk up more to study it out of inquisitiveness, but stopped as thoughts so clear filled her head.

Wake up, wake up...

It was a girl’s voice. Evidently the dreamers, but it wasn’t one she had ever heard prior to. She could easily hear the girl’s thoughts as her mind had connected to hers, and she couldn’t just simply un-connect it. Only waking up would allow Atheya to do that. Turning around, she saw the girl approaching her, but in that same subsequent the dream dissipated around her like a haze, but luckily reappeared in a different form, an altered dreamscape. Now, they both sat on a glade, one completely unfamiliar to her. The moon was big and bright, and illuminated and shadowed both of their silhouettes. Atheya was still bare foot. Looking over at the girl, she smiled, and laughed a little sheepishly. “I’m Atheya, Atheya Vera, and sorry about invading in on your dream, that’s the one thing I will certainly not be able to manage.” She smiled, turning her head to glance up at the sky, absolutely adoring the night’s light. “I guess I should explain, I am from the Institute like I suppose you are, I kind create these mind links where basically I can access your mind. Basic stuff, read your thoughts, speak to you in your head, kind of cause people some uncomfortable, er, pain.” She spoke, trying to explain it really the best as she could. “And of course, walk through dreams. Not intentionally with dreams although. It has gotten me in some bloody weird situations.” She laughed at herself, but kind of stopped a bit abruptly remembering one of the dreams in which gave her a weird situation. It actually got her expelled from her last school before she ran from the foster system. But that was a story for another day. Well actually, she probably wouldn’t end up telling anyone.

Shaking her head of her words, she glimpsed back over to her. “Don’t worry; I don’t tend to invade on peoples thoughts for fun. I don’t go poking in people’s minds for entertainment. That’s other people’s privacy.” She felt like that was necessary to tell her. She often got mistakes of people thinking she did, or that she knew their deepest darkest secrets. She had the power to, but she didn’t like to abuse that. At least not any more. Standing up, she brushed of her pants, and yawned. She always thought it was ironic when she yawned in dreams. She started feeling a pull, like her mind block was approaching back sturdy, which meant on this. She was waking up. “I will see you at classes tomorrow, yeah?” She asked quickly, before the dream vanished before her eyes, and reopened to the waking day.



Come On Eileen

Well... It wasn't day technically. Not yet at least considering that outside her window above her desk, it was still complete darkness. Groaning, she slipped out of her bed, and looked at her vibrant red digital clock, and it read 4:02. That was a usual time for her to get up at. Four hours of solid sleep. That was a good night. At least this gave her time to spend some alone time in the training room before anyone was really awake. Rummaging through one of her dressers they supplied every student with in the standard dorm, she pulled out her work out clothes, and switched them out from the regular clothing she had fallen asleep in. Pulling her slightly over shoulder length wavy hair up into a pony tail, she slipped on a fabric head band as to not get any pesky strands tickling her face. Satisfied, she put on her runners and left her drawing filled room, a phone and water bottle that she had filled up, in hand.

Making her way down the usually corridors, she found her way to a door, a sign on it which read "Training room 2" In cursive. This one was pretty far away from the dorms hearing range, so she would be allowed to play music a little loudly as she went after her usual punching bag. She didn't really suspect anyone would walk in on her routine, no one ever barley even used this second training room as it had way less equipment then the others, and was filled up with extra storage boxes. But she didn't mind it at all, the privacy aspect was what appealed to her. Walking over with small, tired sluggish movements, she hooked up her phone to the speakers they had set up, and pressed play on her music. It was just some basic indie- rock or alt-rock stuff mixed in with some oldies. Just anything upbeat that was not of the pop genre. Moving away from that, she went to the center of the room, and stretched out for a good fifteen or twenty so minutes. She had done this long enough that she knew that she did not want to pull anything. That would suck.

Once she finished that, she felt a bit more energized then she had when she had woken up, which was always a good sign. Now, onto the punching bag. She didn't have gloves, or even taped hands to protect them, but she also didn't particularly care about that. She had been doing this for a while now, even before the institute, and she never once really liked wearing stuff like that. She preferred the actually physical contact, despite the small splits in her knuckles she sometimes got. Steadying herself and planting her feet in her proper stance, she raised her arms up in the regular position, and went at it, doing all the basic hits and kicks, eventually going harder at if every round she did non stop, no breaks. This continued on for quite awhile.

Quite awhile being that she hadn't noticed when two other people trailed in to just do some morning work outs as well. It obviously wasn't 4 AM any more. Stopping, she let out a breath of air, and moved quickly over to her still full water bottle, and drank it down in almost a minute flat. Moving the plastic bottle away from her lips, she unplugged her phone, and gave a small flick of her hand in greeting to the other two in the room, both medials, one female and one male. Pushing open the door, she moved out of the room, and back over to the female dorm area, going quickly into her own room. Tossing her phone onto her unmade bed without checking the time, she grabbed a towel and moved to the showers, not really wanting the glow of sweat that clung to her to stay.

Her shower took a good twenty minutes, the hot steam enjoyable on her soon to be kind of sore muscles. She often found herself day dreaming through the foggy heat of the shower, and she often lost track of time. She really didn't have anything else to occupy her mind, so the random day dreams did. Moving out of the showers, she wrapped herself in a towel, and entered back into her room, putting on her school day outfit. She wasn't one of those girls who particularly 'dressed up' on first day back, but then again not many girls did here.

Hearing the beep of her phone go off signalling a text message, she toddled over to her bed, and picked it up, glancing at the message which flashed on her screen. It was from Flynn.

Sorry I didn't text you back last night- I went straight to sleep. Things are surprisingly good, though. See you in class.

Smiling at his 'good' comment, she let out a small sigh of relief. For all she knew he could technically just be telling her that as he didn't want her to know if he was bad, but that was over thinking it a bit. Besides, she would see him in the first Superlative clas-

"Dammit I forgot about that class!" She squeaked, but quickly covered her mouth. She was still so used to the whole no morning class thing before everyone else, and she always seemed to forget about the silly superlative meeting stuff they did. quickly grabbing her bag, she fled from her room and down the steps, racing through the lobby and into the classroom. But what she didn't realize was that she was early. She just figured she was late because she had forgotten about it. Sighing, she glanced around the room with only a few kids in it, but gladly spotted Flynn. With a smile, she slid over to the desk beside him, and studied the boy as he read. She didn't exactly want to disturb him from reading the book, so she sat their quietly. That was until she went to set her messenger bag beside her desk, and fumbled, falling from her chair and onto the floor on her butt. Putting her head in her heads, she groaned and mumbled "You're kidding me." Before pushing herself up and slipping back into the chair, rubbing her elbow which she whacked on the ground. Glancing around, she saw the other girl in the class who was sitting in the back stifle a chuckle, and Atheya put her head on her desk, and groaned again. "At least Todd didn't see that. I have a feeling I would get teased in the slightest." She mumbled again, really only to herself. Todd actually might not tease her for that, he probably might have just helped her up. He was the only other Superlative other than Flynn who she considered a friend.

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Character Portrait: Atheya Vera Character Portrait: Flynn Calder Character Portrait: Theodore "Todd" Bronte
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Casting his eyes over the faded ink of the pages, he sits alone. There is few students here, but he feels their judgement, even though it is nonexistent. He sits near a window that is ajar, cool air circling the room. The sound of morning fills his ears, the birds singing shrilly, but melodically and in perfect tune. There was passion somewhere past the cold façade – rage hotter than fire, anguish deeper than a fatal wound. But not today. He was calm and still today, for his terrors had not came to him like they always did, grasping his throat with firm hands. The stillness could last the best part of the day, if he was lucky.

Unsure if the other's are going to show up, he is woken from his book with a loud sound, and he cranes over and notices the sound has come from Atheya, who has just toppled over.

"You're kidding me."

Wow. He mouthed, getting out of his chair, giving a slight laugh but only for a moment before helping her up.

"At least Todd didn't see that. I have a feeling I would get teased in the slightest." Atheya mumbled, but just loud enough that Flynn could make it out.

"Well I don't know about Todd, but you sure know how to make an entrance" He smiled again, before pulling Atheya off of the floor. "Speaking of that, where is Todd?"

At that moment, Todd walked in, "Sweet! Right on time! Hiya dudes, dames, and all you other Superlatives." There was a few giggles from the crowd of superlatives that had suddenly manifested in the room. Todd made his way over to the table.

"So, what've we got today? School dance? Mysterious intruder on the grounds? Perhaps Godzilla is attacking Tokyo. I've always wanted to go a few rounds with the over-sized lizard..."

Falling silent, Flynn looked over to Atheya as if to say 'Do you know anything?' It had been a lazy couple days for Flynn after visiting his family back in good ol' Johannesburg. He hadn't really been paying attention to much in particular aside from his own enjoyment, which does sound rather selfish, yes, but it wasn't normal for nothing to plague his mind.

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Atheya lifted her head as the rest of the class endlessly trickled in, and let out a small laugh at Flynns comment about her making an entrance, before glancing over at the door on cue as Flynn made his comment. “Speak of the devil” She said rather stereotypically to Flynn after his comment, a yawn escaping the petite girl’s mouth as she gave a flick of her hand in a casual salute in return to Todds wave of his hand as he came in as one of the last. Well not exactly the last, their always slight late teacher, Ms. Hennessy, trailed in and shut the door behind herself in a split second after he entered. Atheya didn’t mind Hennessy, she was kind and always joked around with her students. She was just overall pretty relaxed, but it was easy to be when she taught a class that really didn’t do much. All she did was tell the Superlatives what was going on, and came up with ideas. They were pretty much a student council more than anything. Instead of slipping behind her desk and figuratively putting her feet up, she went to the middle of the class, and leaned against the wall, giving a wide smile. ”Well welcome back, She stated, her Bambi eyes wide. But turned her attention like the rest of the class to Todd who spoke in his oh-so-casual way. Hennessy let out a snort, and Atheya let out a chuckle at his Godzilla comment. Glancing over at Flynn as he gave her in inquisitive loom, she gave a shrug of her shoulders in return, before Hennessy carried on. ”Not exactly that, Todd. I have been told, as many teachers have, to inform students of the higher security levels around, more guards at doors, more cameras, all due to the unfortunate death of the New Blood girl last year.” She told the class in a somber voice.

Atheya recalled the situation rather well. It happened the week before the school was out, when Atheya was bumping up ranks left, right and center. She even remembered talking to the girl, whose name was Delilah, when they both went to the power demonstration in which she thought, and still does, was pointless and ludicrous. She was sweet, but shy. Atheya actually didn’t bother staying at the ceremonies to learn what her abilities where. She never learned after either. All that the Institute would tell the students was that she was found dead in the woods, and that for a while they had suspected a sort of group going against Silhouette as they had received multiple threats. That was it. It would have been easy for Atheya to find out all the information, prodded teachers mind or snooped like she used to love to do before coming to the Institute, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. So she left it alone, like most students.

Most of the students were quiet after she stated that, either not wanting to give an opinion on the matter, or where in silence at the uncomfortable mention of Delilah. There was, however, hear a mumble or two. Hennessy cleared her throat, and stated. "Other than that," In a cheery voice, trying to break the tension she had created. "We want to have a welcoming event Friday, whether it is a dance, or competitive games, something. Be creative, have a theme, and come up with something and let me know by tomorrow your ideas, and we will decide what we want to do then. Spend the rest of class getting re-acquainted, and coming up with ideas." Atheya recalled last year that on the first Friday, they often had an event of some sort. She hadn't gone last year, claiming she was sick. She wasn't, but she had her reasons in why she stayed in her dorm. Laughing a bit, she glanced over at Todd and said, “I'm curious as to how many people would be delighted about a school wide Godzilla Re-enactment.”

Atheya didn’t know much about school functions or themes, so she sketched in her notebook, tenderly keeping to herself as she thoughtlessly drew grey lines with her pencil, lost in her own mind. It was near the ending of the class before she even realized who’s face she was drawing. A sad feeling shivered down the girl spine, and she ripped out the piece of paper from its binds, crumpling it up and putting it in her messenger bag.

As if on prompt, the bell rang which stated the ending of the superlative class, and the starting of the real classes for all the students. In the morning, each rank, apart from the superlatives that is, had a power control class. Superlatives often went into either the 101 class, for new bloods, or the 102 class, for Medials, to help. More than a few skipped. Atheya got up from her seat as Hennessy called to the trailing out class “Remember to come up with an idea!”

Atheya decided to head over the New Blood Class. There seemed to be a lot more this year and she knew the teacher of the class well. It only made sense. Turning to Flynn, she smiled and said “I’m strolling over to the new kids class. I’ll see you,” unsure of what he was going to do. Rushing out of the class, she walked own the small hall towards the other class room, and she slipped in through the door. She didn’t glance at the students in the desks, but just made her way over to their teacher, Mr. Elliot, a black haired, chiselled jaw, early in his thirties guy.

She knew him well, and despite her being in his class for only a short bit as New Blood, he was her favourite teacher and the single only faculty in the Institute she trusted full heartedly. He had been the one to come get her in New Orleans after all. He was the first person she knew with abilities. He had the talent of tracking, and he was pretty damn good at it too. The only limit he had was that he needed something of the person to be able to track them, but he could, with great power, try to track with just the knowledge of what a person looks like, but it was hard to narrow it down that way. He had been the one to track her down after all with only an image, but she didn’t exactly leave a discrete trail. He was always the one to track down the one who make trouble, and she had been one of the extreme few the institute sought out to take off the street.

“What’s up?” She smiled walking towards his desk before he started the class. He smiled back and said, pushing up his reading glasses, “Well Atheya, I should be the one asking you that, after all a student’s life is much more riveting than a teachers.” She shook her head, before leaning against the wall beside his desk, often where she placed herself. “Pretty sure you know my life is just as equally as uneventful. But you’re always the one constantly doing stuff.” She smirked, setting her bag down. “Speaking of stuff, I tried over the break to help track down that stuff you where looking for.” He said, in kind of a hushed voice so that it was private. Even without the silent tone he had, the students probably wouldn’t have over heard the conversation as each one was loud in their talking, and together, it created one loud orchestra of voices that enabled others from listening in to anything.

The stuff he was referring to was about her brother. Well her foster brother. Well... her ex-foster brother, August. She had asked him before the ending of the year if he could try and track him down for her, as she had no way of doing so herself. She had no right to call child services and ask about his location, firstly because she didn’t have rights and secondly because she actually ran away from the system and probably shouldn’t be contacting them in the first place. They had been sent to separate homes after two years of their sibling glory, and she wouldn’t rest until she reconnected with him. He was the only family she considered having, and he even knew her ability. He often made X-men puns about it with her. He didn’t judge, and his first reaction to finding it out was “Holy shit that’ so cool, what number am I thinking?” No one but Mr. Elliot knew about August, or anything from her past for that matter.

Atheya braced herself for some not so good news, and asked, “You find anything?” in slight hope. He glanced down, removing his glasses and setting them on the desk. “All I know is he’s somewhere in America right now, so the London Child Services must have him sent down there. But he’s eighteen now, correct? So I have no idea if he’s adopted, still with a foster family, or on his own now. But, if it’s ok with you, I can still continue to try with the picture you gave me, and if you can search for anything you have that he might have even touched, just send it to me right away.” She just nodded, the small sadness washed over her face. But them she bent down, reaching into her bag and smoothed out the drawing she had shoved in there. Handing it to him, it held a drawing of her brother. “I don’t know if this will help, but he gave me a note book that I drew this with.” He nodded, and put it in his brief case thing. After that, he moved away from his desk after all the class and Superlative helpers seemed to be in, and announced. “Welcome to Power Control 101. It’s pretty self explanatory what we will be doing here, and I will be here just to help. My names Mr. Elliot.”

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Character Portrait: Atheya Vera Character Portrait: Lysander Marcelle Character Portrait: Flynn Calder Character Portrait: Katrina Hyde Character Portrait: Spencer Stone
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“If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle"

Sometimes he wonders if there's more to life than this.

Gazes look past him , and with paranoia, they force him to take a discreet look over his shoulder. Ever since that doomed trip into the world of dark magic it's been louder, more insistent, and its whispers echo in his head in a way that has him shaking them away. You aren't the first one - you don't listen to its confused murmurings, stuck in that place with the killing and the screaming where a monster lurked and waited with bated breath. Back in your old life all you want to do is forget (they say he has trauma and doesn't remember, but you do), and with your fingers circling the page, it's what you intend to do.

They say that most personalities drown out Flynn. Reserved, quiet and even somewhat stubborn it is not like he comes across well to most. Flynn, you will always be that guy that people know but they don't really know. Some may be a little unhinged around you, others find the whole 'act' pretty intriguing. But you like it that way, don't you? Flynn isn't the most sentimental or even extroverted of people, but what do you have to do.

He hoped no one noticed as he read the book from his lap, the words still spinning in his mind like a cartoon. A whirlwind of nouns and syllables and watery black ink danced around his mind, desperately trying to distract him. The ink took the form of a skull, and then dissipated from his mind once more.

Before you know, you hear a shrill noise that could only mean one thing- real classes.

“I’m strolling over to the new kids class. I’ll see you,”

"I think I'm in 101. I'll be there soon"

Fumbling with meaningless things he gave Todd a wave and was off again, slipping in to the crowd that gathered. The boy- being fairly tall- could almost see over the tops of most of the student's heads. It was a feature that made him stand out, but a useful one at that. There was a distinct divide in the New Bloods and the Superlatives that poured out of the superlative class. Distinctively unsure, even the New Bloods that seemed as if they knew what they were doing just didn't look that sure.

Through a window came strings of sunlight, and seemingly from thin air a manifestation of his shadow sprung from the floor. Clad in all black and bearing a strikingly similar appearance to the grim reaper, Chandler's solid form was basically guaranteed to freak some people out.

"Why now, Chandler" He whispered to the thing, floating a foot above the ground (And although Flynn was six foot, standing about a foot taller than him) with his nonexistent face staring, almost condescendingly, at the student body. A few comments from the new kids here and there, and Flynn begrudgingly made his way to the first class, Chandler trailing a hand's width behind him.

He didn't bother to knock as he came in, giving a quick nod to the teacher, and awkwardly standing at the side next to Atheya, Chandler right there. Hopefully it would not be long until he got bored and decided to evaporate, but it didn't seem like any time soon, and the seven foot demon-looking shadow floated behind him.

"Oh and sorry I'm late... again" He shrugged, at least comforting himself with the fact most didn't bother to show up at all.

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Character Portrait: Atheya Vera Character Portrait: Lysander Marcelle Character Portrait: Flynn Calder Character Portrait: Jon Dunaway Character Portrait: Spencer Stone
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Lysander kept waving. The other girl didn’t seem to be waving back, just staring at him with a certain amusement. As he kept waving, the girl made her way towards him. She seemed to be eying something in his hand. “Does your friend also like to talk to himself? Is that a thing you guys do or…? Cause I could totally dig that.” Lysander was going to reply with something snarky and witty but he couldn’t think of anything off the top of his head. Instead, he just kept staring at her awkwardly as she tried to check her phone in the most covert way possible. She took a second to look at her clock, while Lysander tried his best not to let her notice how uncomfortable he was. He didn’t really mind that she was checking her phone. He was thinking more about why he was still waving to her this whole time. He abruptly put his hand to his side, hoping that the tension between them would diminish. “We should really rush now,” the girl said, “I think class has already started. If you want, we can talk together to ourselves inside.”

As she walked in, Lysander began to breathe easier again. Girls seemed to make him tenser than ghosts did. Perhaps he should have listened to his brother, Edward, when he told him in 4th grade to start hanging out with girls. But back then, for Lysander, girls still had cooties.

Lysander felt rather at ease again. “That wasn’t so bad,” he thought to himself. And now, he at least had one person he could talk to in school. Of course, he would have known some more people if he had actually made it back in time to the Institute for orientation. ”Meh,” he said to himself, however, as he began to walk towards the classroom door, ”Not knowing a lot of people isn’t that big a deal.” Though he found himself subconsciously believing the contrary.

ImageAs he walked in, he once again felt tense. He forgot that this was exactly the reason why he hated being late. Lysander stood at the door, frozen, and just stared at the teacher as the teacher stopped talking and turned his eyes towards him. ”I’m late,” Lysander stated bluntly as a figurative captain’s hat fell on his head. Stitched upon it was the word “obvious” but no one could see it because it was imaginary. The teacher looked at him, ”Yes. Yes you are late. Now please sit down.” Lysander looked around. He had two options: to 1) go sit with people he had never met or 2) go sit near the girl with the amused look on her face whom, in the hallway, he had just made a complete fool out of himself in front of. Lysander sighed. He bowed his head in shame as he walked across the class towards his seat that, fortunately, was closer to the window. ”You know,” he whispered to the girl as he sat down, ”I’m usually not this awkward.” But that was debatable.

A few minutes passed. ”Yeah. We can talk telepathically. It’s a guy thing,” he thought to himself, ”No that’s stupid. Why would that be funny?”

While Lysander was trying to come up with witty responses to the conversation he had in the hall over five minutes ago, the phone still laid in his hand. ”Oh shit!” he thought to himself as he remembered that the phone was still on. Just then, someone walked through the door.

While the boy who walked in, a superlative, seemed completely normal, Lysander felt as if an unexplainable presence accompanied him. It wasn’t the dead girl. It was something much darker. He could get in trouble for this, but he decided to take the risk anyway. He put his head down on his desk, tucking it into his arms, and, in a mere second, let his body go limp as his spirit leaped out of his body. In the physical world, he would appear to be sleeping, but in the spirit world he would be able to walk around the class without being detected. Image

Unfortunately for Lysander, he didn’t have his lantern, so his spirit would have to walk up to the presence if he wanted to get a look at it. The room was dark and he could only see people and objects within a one meter radius. However, it was very clear that whatever the mysterious specter was, it was the same thing he had seen the first day he had walked into the Institute. The overwhelming darkness of its presence was unmistakable.

Hello? Lysander said shakily as he tried to reason with the entity. He hoped that it would be something with logical thought processes, but it was unlike anything he had ever seen before. It wasn’t alive, nor was it dead. It was just…dark, like a shadow. While Lysander felt an irrational fear overcome him, he felt at ease knowing that at least one familiar person was within the room, even if there was also a strange shadowy specter in the room as well. He moved through the room, trying his best not to step on the ghosts of the two dead monks that had died there centuries before. They were naked. Never was that a pleasant sight.

Lysander warily approached the dark essence in the front of the class. The teacher’s voice was drowned out and all Lysander could hear was heavy breathing and the thumping of his own heart. Of the two noises, only the latter was he causing. The other noise must have been that of the shadowy creature. Despite his fear, Lysander found himself compelled to keep moving forward, walking passed the teacher and the Superlative girl and towards the Superlative boy.

Suddenly, as the dark entity came into sight, Lysander felt his entire being become seized by an overpowering grasp. Waves of darkness flicked violently off the entity and rose Lysander’s spirit off the material ground. ”You are not welcome here anymore, spirit-walker,” the phantom said, ”The spirit world of this Church is my domain.” and with those last words Lysander’s spirit body was flung back into his physical one, causing him to wake up with a loud gasp and fall out of his chair. As he got up, tried laughing it off, and awkwardly settled back down into his seat, he looked intently into the Superlative boy's eyes. Something was off about him. The way that dark shadow followed him; it wasn’t natural (though hardly anything was in this Institute). Furthermore, Lysander knew that boy's powers had ties with that dark phantom, and he didn’t feel right about it. Whatever the boy’s powers were, it was imperative for Lysander to find them out.

But it was also imperative that Lysander finally hang up the call he had answered a while ago on his phone. Fortunately, the person on the end already did it for him.

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Character Portrait: Atheya Vera Character Portrait: Lysander Marcelle Character Portrait: Flynn Calder Character Portrait: Spencer Stone
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Atheya glanced over to Flynn, and the shadowy figure Chandler, as he came in as he apologized for his lateness. She just gave a bit off a chuckle, before crossing her arms over her chest, and turning her attention back to Mr. Elliot, who made tsk’ing noises at all the late comers, one of which was the owner of the dream Atheya popped into that night. Atheya seemed to stiffen up as she saw the girl come into realization of her, and saw her even going as far as to mumble something which she could only image was something about her. Atheya was probably the best person at reading ones face without even knowing the persons thoughts, and she knew that face well. It was the, is she really okay, how can a trust someone like that, face. She couldn’t blame the girl. Hell, if the roles where switched, Atheya would probably feel the same way.

Atheya glanced down at her feet, and let her arms fall to her sides again. She barely even was listening to anything the teacher was saying, until he came and wedged his way in between Flynn and herself, promptly putting his hands on both of their heads and continuing on with whatever speech he was giving before, probably something about his own tracking ability.

“Now, this class is laid back. If you have a question, ask it. That’s how it works here. You need a mentor? Ask a teacher like myself, or one of these superlative kids. They are here to help.” He stated, ruffling both Atheya and Flynns hair. Atheya swatted his hand away, saying in a low mumble “We’re not dogs,” and flattening out her hair. The teacher then stepped away from them and back to the front of the class. “Don’t be afraid to use your powers in here, if it’s for the sake of learning, and if you are in need of another person, [ask their permission. Also just talking to someone else helps the whole understanding aspect. But remember, this is a class, so every week on Fridays we do a progress report, and I will have you set new goals for yourself every week. Now flock like birds, and go on. Ask questions, come up with a goal, do what you need to do.” He stated in end, sitting down in his seat behind the desk.

Atheya pushed herself off of the wall when Mr.Elliots spiel was done, and was planning on going towards the dream girl, but half way to her desk, her eyes flicked to the boy who gasped and fell out of his chair, and laughed it off. She studied him for a second, and followed his eyes, and noticed them fixed on Flynn. She thought maybe he was just eyeing chandler as it wasn’t exactly odd for people to do that, but no, he was studying Flynn. Shuffling back a bit, she poked Flynn in the arm and said softly looking up at him, “Maybe talk to that kid over there,” flicking her had slightly in his direction, before making her way over to the dream girls desk.

Smiling in a friendly manner, she said in her British tone “I don’t think I properly got your name in all the oddness, and it was probably the worst way to introduce myself, so once again, my names Atheya.”

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Character Portrait: Atheya Vera Character Portrait: Lysander Marcelle Character Portrait: Flynn Calder Character Portrait: Spencer Stone
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#, as written by Saerith
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It took Spencer a few seconds before she could, still a bit disturbed, deviate her eyes from Atheya, and she only did so because the other girl had a strange expression on her face, perhaps she felt uncomfortable. The first thing that caught her eye, obviously, was the - probably - last student that would be arriving to class: a blonde, tall boy who was followed by a truly strange presence: beside him, stood a dark and even bigger shadow, something she couldn't write distinguish but looked - and this was the only possible word to describe it - evil. She felt about the same as she had when she actually noticed Atheya was a real person, not surprised, but a bit off. And a bit more scared, naturally, although Atheya's ability was upsetting, it didn't look half as dangerous.

She was a bit distracted when the teacher began speaking. If that was her, she would have hold on a bit until everyone was not distracted by the gigantic, black death-looking demon-thing, before explaining important things. When she actually got back in tune with Mr. Elliot, he was saying something about mentors and not being afraid to use her powers, which obviously confused her. How on Earth was she ever going to use her powers in class? She suspected that neither a mentor nor a student would be up for some blind time. Also, it was not like she particularly enjoyed the aftermath. In better days, she had to keep very still and very quiet when the effect of her attack finally wore out, because she could feel absolutely nothing, so walking around and trying to do anything at all was basically suicide. In worse case scenarios, it was hard convincing herself she wasn't dead and would sometimes get a bit desperate. Crying was not something she wanted to do in front of the entire class. Talk about social suicide.

For all of these reasons, when she noticed the brunette walking in her direction, she actually felt more relieved than uneasy. Maybe she could explain her complications to her and everything could be solved. Maybe she would have an awesome solution like a students with the power of seeing through his mouth or something. Maybe she would find her power totally awesome and would volunteer to help her practicing it, be her private Guinea pig.

Maybe not.

Spence's fantasies were interrupted by the loud sound of something hitting the floor. It was the boy she had been speaking to just a moment ago, it took him a second to stand up. When he finally did, she gently poked his shoulder and, still struggling to keep the laugher that was trying to burst out of her mouth in control, nodded firmly. "I'm pretty sleepy too, but you were right, bud." She couldn't contain the giggle that slipped out with the words "You're not awkward at all. You're like Casanova charming. We should hang."

With one last friendly look to her desk neighbor, she turned again to welcome the girl from her dream to her humble new spot. She tried her best to smile and keep being friendly, since that Superlative girl was probably her only chance of solving some issues without having to consult an adult, but she was a real failure at hiding her thoughts, so her smile came out a bit crooked and her eyes maintained a untrusting glimmer when Atheya reached her desk. "Yeah, I remember. That was, hum... Interesting. And a bit strange. It's kind of uncomfortable to now that one entire person can be actually inside your head. I almost believed I had invented you or something, but I don't think I'd ever come up with your name by myself." She stopped rambling with the realization that, again, she had said too much."I'm Spencer, Spencer Stone. Nice to meet you in real life.

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Character Portrait: Atheya Vera Character Portrait: Lysander Marcelle Character Portrait: Flynn Calder Character Portrait: Spencer Stone
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After putting his phone back in his pocket, Lysander took a second to relax and breathe. It was such a jarring experience that his whole body felt suspended and his nerves seemed to rattle his body subtly but uncontrollably.

As it finally became easier for him to calm himself down, he looked back at the boy and his specter. They both stood perfectly still, nothing seemed evil about them nor did they seem out of place. The physical version of the entity he had just encountered in the spirit world just stood silently next to the Superlative boy and made no effort to acknowledge Lysander or anyone else in the room but him: the blonde-haired Superlative boy. How different was the creature he had encountered in the spirit world than its physical counterpart that Lysander was entranced with figuring out why.

Suddenly, his thoughts were broken up by the girl in front of him saying, “I’m pretty sleepy too, but you were right, bud. You’re not awkward at all. You’re like Casanova charming. We should hang.” With her latter words, the girl couldn’t help but let out a small giggle, which caused Lysander to let out a little one too. However, while the girl’s laugh was natural and easygoing, Lysander's laugh was more through his nose and in a manner that resembled that of a bull exhaling. He, indeed, was pretty awkward, but what could one expect of a person who spends his whole life conversing with dead people more than he did the living? So he agreed with her on that part of her statement, though he couldn’t really agree with her on the rest. Lysander was less of a Casanova charming and more of a Humphrey Bogart charming. Maybe he should tell her that later on so there would be no confusion.


How Lysander sees himself:

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"Here's looking at you, kid"



As Lysander prepared to get up out of his seat, he saw another girl head towards their side of the room. It was the Superlative girl from the front of the class. She came over to the girl that sat in the desk in front of him and they exchanged a few words. Though what they were talking about made absolutely no sense to Lysander, what he got out of their conversation was their names. The Superlative girl’s name was Atheya and the girl who sat in front of him was named Spencer. “That’s funny,” Lysander thought to himself, “my mother’s name was Spencer.” But he didn’t like to think about his mother too much since she was a drug addict who was always stoned and (with his father) abandoned her family when Lysander was four. “But, oh well,” Lysander said in his head. The failure of his deadbeat parents was something Lysander repressed a long time ago. It didn’t really faze him anymore nor did it force him dwell on it either. Though it did sort of strike him as weird that his father's name was Spencer too...and their cats' names...and his eldest sister's birth name. "I guess it's just a blessing that my other siblings and I weren't all named Spencer as well," Lysander thought to himself. Because that was very well possible since his parents were borderline brain-dead.

But after a while of being fazed by bad childhood memories and then being forced to dwell on the failure of his deadbeat parents, Lysander abruptly snapped out of his trance and turned his attention towards the front of the room. The Superlative boy was standing near the door with his dark specter and made occasional glances towards Lysander. However, still thinking about his odd in encounter with the specter’s sprit, Lysander continued to observe the specter carefully.

Lysander couldn’t decide if the entity was only violent in the spirit world and simply covering it up in the physical world or was just bipolar. The entity just stood still in this realm, its body seeming to hang nonchalantly around its bones and its state of mind seeming to reflect that of boredom. But in the spirit realm it revealed itself to be much more violent and controlling. Lysander didn’t know if the being was harmless or harmful. Perhaps both.

ImageEither way, however, Lysander felt the need to go near it, regardless of whatever its intentions were. With the compulsion to meet the boy and the specter, Lysander got up from his seat and began heading towards the front of the room. While also motivated to figure out what exactly the dark entity was, another thought popped into Lysander’s head while making his way towards the boy, “Perhaps whatever powers the boy has are related to the spirit world, and, since the boy is a Superlative, maybe this would mean he knows more about it than I do.” But as Lysander approached the boy, he became aware of one other thing, which was more trivial than it was important. “This boy is tall as shit!” Lysander thought to himself. With all of his insightful observations, it was as if Lysander was bloody Sherlock Holmes.




"I'm a high-functioning sociopath."

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Character Portrait: Atheya Vera Character Portrait: Lysander Marcelle Character Portrait: Flynn Calder Character Portrait: Spencer Stone
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Image Lysander calmed himself down a bit, and tried focusing on the task at hand. He had made light of the situation, but deep down, he understood the true severity of it. The dark presence that stood beside the Superlative boy was another spirit-walker like Lysander himself, which meant that the entity could be just as or more powerful than Lysander. And given Lysander's lack of experience, the latter was most probable.

But the fact that another cognizant being was roaming around the spirit world, no matter the potential threat that it posed against Lysander, was pretty extraordinary. The spirit world contained millions of conscious spirit-walkers. But due to Lysander's filter on what he saw, he didn't encounter them very often. In fact, after his twin brother, Edward, trained him to see only fragments of what the spirit world contained, the only two people that Lysander knew could consciously traverse the spirit world were himself and Edward. All the other spirits just seemed to replay horrible events, usually their deaths, over and over again; so stuck in their despair that they never moved from that stage of their life onto the afterlife that the spirit world provided for them. Not that walking around aimlessly through their eternal afterlife would have been any better.

Suddenly, Lysander snapped out of his contemplative state. While he was stuck within his thoughts, he had been awkwardly staring at the Superlative boy without saying a word to him. He scanned over the classroom, everyone was talking, including Atheya and Spencer. "Good," Lysander thought to himself, "No one else, except for the Superlative boy, probably noticed me staring at him for so long." Lysander awkwardly waved at the boy. The Superlative boy looked at him. "Maybe I should say something too," Lysander said in his head. So he did.

"Hey, I'm Lysander Marcelle, a New Blood," the spirit-walker said in order to introduce himself. But before he could say anything else, the Superlative boy said something instead.