Lazarus Foreza's Story

It was a hot day in New Orleans again, but not a bad heat. A bad heat was like the heat in a desert like the Mojave. Dry and suffocating. At least with southern heat one could not only feel the breeze against their skin, but enjoy every second of it. The day had a breeze, small bits, still there though.

Lazarus had just gotten out of the car he had been riding in and got his backpack on. He didn't like to dress up much so what he had was just fine. Jeans, shirts, and boxers were all anybody really needed. Cigarettes were included of course, he couldn't go a single day without them, let alone an entire semester.

There were more people at the academy than he thought there'd be. Honestly he just expected a couple socially awkward guys and girls attempting to make conversations. It was big too, like really big, not the size of his estate, but still big. He entered the house, looking around for where to set his things. He walked towards and up the stairs, taking out a cigarette as he went. When he came to the dorm room he tossed his backpack on one of them to claim it as his own. He wondered who would be his roommate would be. When his ride was just pulling up, he saw a handsome man sitting on the balcony. Maybe he would be Lazarus' new roommate. That would be fun. He knew that there was supposed to be a speech like meeting later in the evening so he might as well take a nap first. He set his alarm and laid into bed.

Pell Laveau

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Pell’s distaste for her natural lineage was attempting to fight its way through her expression when she fully comprehended the powwow taking place in her bedroom. It stiffed its own efforts, making it as far as a two rows of gritted teeth. The cherry on her cigarette dimmed and disintegrated. Past supremes must have been rolling over in their graves. Craft was becoming a sullied social assembly. Not that Pell personally took any offense, she more or less hated feeling like she owed reverence and high standards to the governing coven queens before her. It was a force of habit. It was a lingering legacy from Andrea. Her mother. Respect your elders. Embrace your bloodline. That sort of thing. She could hear the romance and sincerity of a nearly forgotten maternal tone in her head, some longed for spirit she would never see again. It struck a nerve.

Why did you have to let him take you?

No, he wasn’t real. No way he could be. Just seemed a little too batshit. Who sacrificed themselves to voodoo divinities anyway? Pell’s thoughts intensified. A curtain hissed as it went up in heated color. Pell nonchalantly pressed a thumb and forefinger to her temple, gaze suddenly sweeping the floor. She was anxious from the abundance of excitement in her room, and as she lifted her perspective so that it could find Fiona’s dog, she maintained this sort of cold temperament with little true emotion behind it. A sigh escaped her throat. Fingers relinquished their pity on her memories and snapped with a distinct ‘pop’. Ashes fell to the pine floorboards, window left bare. The spontaneous fire disappeared and took the curtains with it. The room sort of fell silent as she got to her feet, a slow draw bringing a coffin nail to her mouth so that she could pull the nicotine into her lungs. She inhaled deeply. Her cheeks further hollowed, quiet foot steps tugging the attention of Arturo. Her friendliness dissolved into the mood swing of a fleeting memory. There were those problems with authority again. A mass of thick smoke gushed over Arturo’s face as Pell exhaled and clouded his otherwise wolfish, handsome features.

Her air didn’t change when the tobacco and smog faded. She shrugged, some vague agreement on her cousin’s statement. Like telling a wolf not to howl. Dead silence. She pinched the cigarette and pressed its smoldering remainders into the pale flesh of her palm. Pell was resolute, her skin singed and blistered as a good three or four layers of it blistered and peeled away. “All bark,” she crooned, grabbing a purse and squeezing past Arturo and Kyle, no final looks exchanged with Aden or even Jacqueline, “and no bite.” Poor Silas, must have been terrified at that moment. His country corners, his ironed sweaters and handshake gloves. Would he last a week with Pell as a roommate?

There was no goodbye, no explanation, no beckon for those invited or interested to follow. If they wanted to come, they would. She was through with fine print invitations and congeniality. She just sidestepped and exited, fay lavender hair swaying behind her. Even though she thought to stop, to formally greet the other visitor, a shaggy haired serene individual who had no problem inserting himself, she realized at that point there was no point. The general flock of bedroom guests grew out of hand and attracted more than she bargained for. Or was it her own fault? Arturo had the nose of a bloodhound. Damn! It was her fault.

The breaks in what would be spiral stairs if not for grand landings every tenth step found Pell catching a doe-eyed redhead in her arms. Static music pooled in their brief haphazard clinch. Pell furrowed her brow, suddenly shrugging the girl away. Madison’s silhouette swayed and vanished in the distance. Pell noted the dangling headphones as she mused, “You should tell her to fuck herself if she even looks at you. Scampering away like a kicked puppy will only encourage her.” With a heavy breath Pell grabbed the girls fists and unballed them in spite of the fresh injury on her own hand that had started to slowly throb. Her expression softened. A half-smile yanked at her mouth and released a toothy grin, “You know there’s no class today, right? It’s Ceremony.” She laughed, nudged the girl and continued on her way out. When she passed the ancestry room, Rowe of course was isolated and binging on whatever, mumbling and sinking into a couch cushion.

“You’re going to get fat,” she called wayside, satire in her voice, twang on its extremity, “Throwing things and eating bread isn’t really a real regiment.” Apathetic to everyone, she kind of rolled her eyes. She made her way outside, sun scattering over her skin as she hopped down the front stairs and let the rhythm of her walk catch in her swinging hips. A pair of white sunglasses were pressed onto her face as she looked into the horizon, happy to just get out of the ‘house’ and get some shopping done.

Jacqueline watched her maudlin cousin storm out of her own room, just as the dark haired boy entered. She sighed heavly. It didn't take much to set Pell off, it never has and there were countless times Jacqueline run off after her before she did something foolish, but quite frankly, Jacqueline wasn't sure she was up to the task at the moment, she gotten very little sleep, which made for very little patience. Arturo put her in a nasty mood, and while she meant to met up with her to shop, she wasn't about to do it at the moment, not until she calmed a bit.

"There party in here or do you all just live in the same room? The dark haired boy asked and Jacqueline looked at him.

"You must be new." She mused aloud. He was a handsome one, a dark sort of handsome that got girls in trouble. Not unlike Arturo, only as far as Jacqueline was concerned, this lad was accessible and not soaked in magic.

"Dz'is be my cousin's room, now dz'at she's gone, I suggest everyone who does not live 'ere. Vacate. comme maintenant" She said and the tone on her voice, whether they all spoke French or not, told them she meant, 'Like now.'

She gestured to the door before walking out herself. "I am Jacqueline by dz'e way." She said offering her hand to the new boy. " Jacqueline Lavaeu-Ayers. My friends call me, Jacq" She told him.

To Silas's knowledge, he had been called a "freak" to his face exactly three times in his lifetime(Auntie Lavinia always hinted that there had been another, but he hadn't the foggiest idea when that could have been and she certainly wasn't talking). The first had been as a child in the distant memory of Baltimore. A neighbor boy had given him a once-over, judged his little suit and matching cravat poorly, and had thrown the word like a casual bullet- unthinkingly and painful (His mother had refused to make him apologize, tossing out a casual "boys will be boys" cliche. The verbal lashing his aunt had given them- the boy, the mother, and her husband when he eventually came out to see what the ruckus was- has been said to linger over their previous neighborhood as a warning to all disrespectful parents). The second had been an older woman at one of his aunt's parties, too drunk to censor herself (she was never seen within their social circle again). The third, distressingly enough, had been the first date he'd ever been on (a girl, much to the general public's shock), apparently distressed by his refusal to hold hands and the vague, "freaky vibe" he gave off.

Those are, of course, only instances where he's been told he was a freak or, if people were feeling more charitable, was acting like one. The instances where he knew that was what people were thinking, well, he'd quickly lost track of those. They'd been more frequent in Baltimore and sporadic throughout his young adult-hood. Strange looks, leaning away, round-about comments, and pinched facial expressions- yes, he'd become quite the connoisseur. So, that was why he could say with some certainty that he had already made an extremely poor first impression with his roommate and her collection of friends.

Pell was kind about it- really, she was, especially since he hadn't given his own avoidance of skin-to-skin contact the gravity it deserved when slipping on his gloves. And, really, when had telling someone not be be offended ever really work? Her friend with the cigarette, Aden as Silas would later learn from Pell's scoffed reprimand, was decidedly less so. He descended like a particularly rude crow, all black clothes and tattooed flesh, sweeping into the room with a self-assured swagger that Silas was slightly envious of. Silas shifted stiffly on his bed, partially due to the heat (the air conditioning was slowly soothing that ailment right now, although he could feel the sweat cooling unpleasantly under his clothing) and partially due to the general discomfort that was being Silas in a house full of new people. Of course he was for real, Silas thought quite uncharitably, because he hardly thought that anyone would still be wearing a suit in this weather if they weren't terribly committed to being themselves. Or maybe this was more hazing, a more gentle approach than Madison's verbally violent tirade.

There were more people now, apparently materializing into existence since he'd seen none of them during his initial arrival. There was another girl, exceedingly pretty like many of the girls here but in a different way that the fae-like Pell and apparently provocatively testing the boundaries of decency in her outfit. Silas averted his eyes on instinct when her eyes flickered over to him, hands clasped together tightly in his lap as the beginnings of a blush dusted his cheeks. It was probably the way she moved that did it, aware of how she looked and embracing it bodily. Her arrival was followed by a broad and casual invitation from Pell, something about Ceremony meals and boutiques to drag the straggling students out into town.

Before anyone could answer, another person, a man in all senses of the word with a mix of height and muscles that would have sent Auntie Lavinia's female friends into a flurry of tittering giggles and fanning motions. Definitely not a student, Silas decided as the man leveled a casual warning about cigarette smoke on those in the room (good on him for that because the only foul smelling smoke he'd ever gotten used to was his Aunt's incense). And, really, was everyone here a model or something? Silas found himself craving the presence of Ms. Snow's, his aunt, his prior social circle, all attractive in their own, unique way, in a way that he was used to, and in a way didn't make him feel like a gangly mess in nice clothes that were starting to wrinkle from a long day of traveling.

Okay, perhaps they weren't all model-like, he was forced to admit when their first guest (the only one for both himself and Pell if only because the others seemed intent on ignoring him or, in the case of Aden, poking at him) finally spoke. But even he was admittedly attractive if in a slightly raggedy-andy sort of way. He finally spoke amidst the chaos of people apparently using his new room as a social hot-spot, words slow-coming and simple, gestures applied in such a way that this could easily be a silent pantomime and Silas still would have understood the implications. It wasn't really off-putting and Silas found himself standing once again, moving to shake the other boy's hand. Perhaps it was desperation on his part, but the very fact that he'd met someone who seemed genuinely glad that he was here and not simply tolerant or curious was one of the highlights of his week let alone his day.

"Yes, I'm Silas. I'm very delighted to meet you, Kyle," He said, the same enthusiasm that had been dramatically tamped down by Madison's verbal lashing, Pell's casually cool demeanor, and the general attitudes of his new classmates bubbling back to the surface. The handshake was far less awkward that his greeting with Pell if only because the gloves were already on his hands and he didn't look like a particularly insane and paranoid germaphobe.

There was a moment when Kyle's smile and friendly gaze died on his face leaving Silas confused and a bit weary- had it been something that he'd done?- before it reappeared, much to Silas's relief. The offer of a tour was a ray of sunshine during a dreary day, a way to find out about the place he would be staying and, alternatively, an excuse not to tag along with the town outing. It wasn't that he didn't like Pell, no, she was a very lovely person as was everyone here probably, but he didn't want to try her her patience by tagging along like a particularly lost puppy, a responsibility rather than a friend to pal around with at this point.

"Yes, please," he replied, smile growing larger in his relief. "I'd love a tour."

Oh, bother, and now there was someone else in their room, another Adonis-like man sweeping in with a line so casually fitting the situation that Silas was left with lingering traces of envy. And then no one was putting out their cigarettes which was a shame, really, and left Silas wanting to inch towards the window and crack it open just a bit (either that or pull out one of the incense sticks or scented candles Auntie Lavinia had stashed away in his luggage). He might have too if it weren't for the fact that the curtains were on fire. Well, were on fire in the past tense. Right now they were just ash on the floor.

The room went silent, the cacophony of predominantly Southern voices fading. The only movement in the room was Pell, sucking on her cigarettes before letting the noxious fumes flow into the only real adult in the room's face before crushing the burning stick in her hands. Silas could practically smell the singed flesh it left behind as Pell sashayed from the room, a purse in her unhurt hand and a lingering jab. To say that he was stunned wouldn't be fair- he'd seen far worse from people he knew far better, but he was left in a bit of a daze. This entire day had left him in a bit of a daze, this entire week as well. And now his roommate, arguably the person he knew best at this point, had somehow incinerated their curtains and left her gaggle of acquaintances and friends in their shared room without a second glance.

The only other girl in the room, the only one to have truly been invited in apart from Kyle, quickly ordered everyone out (most likely to follow after Pell on her trek into town) and if Silas had been more comfortable in the situation or knew her any better he would have thanked her heartily for saying what he didn't have the courage to say himself. But he didn't know her and her attention was on prettier prizes than Silas.

He had three choices now, that much was clear. One, he could hide in his room until he couldn't anymore. Two, he could follow Pell and probably the crowd into the world outside in search of new curtains. Or, three, he could see if the only person he trusted to not either leave him stranded somewhere or lock him in a closet for fun was still up for that tour and, if not, go with plan two. And if that didn't work, plan one still existed.

"I don't suppose," He said, words a little abrupt at first before he finally shook off the last remnants of surprise, "I can still have that tour?" He turned to Kyle, eyes full of hope like a puppy begging for scraps.

The new kid, Silas, struck up an easy conversation with Kyle, and Aden didn't blame him - Kyle was easy to get along with. The boy genuinely liked people, was easily excitable, blah blah blah. Silas seemed to take to his friendly demeanor minor faster than he had to any of the others. Which was slightly ironic, if only because Kyle was probably the least normal person around the metaphorical dinner table. But, to each their own.

Pell lost her cool as quick as the flames that struck up in the room. Aden settled back on her bed, leaning on his forearms, watching with an amused smirk around his cigarette as she tried her damnedest to keep it together. He wasn't sure what had set her off, wasn't even sure he cared, but perhaps her 'practicing control' pitch had been true after all.

She was gone in a wave of smoke to the wolf's face that brought a grin to Aden's ever so stoic expression. He probably would have pulled that one himself if he had left first. That was the reason why he hated Pell just a little less than the others - she had just as much problem with authority as he did.

Jaq was talking to a guy he didn't know, someone who showed up just as the drama was descending, but she had a good point mixed in her accented english -- they were crowded in a room that wasn't theirs, and as the main room holder had made her very dramatic exit, it was only fair that they follow after her.

With a sigh, Aden pushed himself off the bed, pulled his cigarette from his lips and smirked at DeGari as he passed. "Trust me. If we wanted to burn the academy down, a couple of cigarette's are the least of your worries." Just as he was about to leave though, a thought occurred to Aden. He had no where to go. Back to his perch, where Mr. B would undoubtedly find him again, or into town with the others. With a sigh, he shot a look over his shoulder. "Hey, Zombie Boy, I'm going on that tour with you."

Life was an exciting thing for the Spencer boy. Just about as exciting as the sun washing the rain away on a gloomy day. Anything that had an ounce of the altering substance almost always brought the widest grin on his face. But what usually pushed him over the top into bubbly giggles was when a bunch of it was all together at once. And seeing as the academy wasn't the most social of places, it was a rare sight to see when one observed more than three students together in the same vicinity, let along interacting. No matter how rebellious it was. All the talk and murmurs and walking in and out replaced Kyle's introductory smile with a beaming grin. It was all so precious, and Kyle was exceptionally glad that Silas got to experience it all first hand. Because until ceremony, there wasn't a very good chance this "party" would happen again.

But Kyle was often times oblivious to just how cruel some statements or judgements could be. Most of the time, sarcasm flew right over his scarred head and it never came back, and unless their judgements were worn on their faces, Kyle never actually noted opinions are sass until much later when contemplating the day's events. So at the moment, the undead really didn't actually realize how destructive the group could have been to the poor newcomer. Kyle was used to their banter and petty fights after all. So when Silas stood up, confirming Kyle's original suspicions about the young man being tall, he didn't fully comprehend the man's desperateness to find something friendly to hold onto. He simply took it as excitement to be here, and Kyle was more than happy to see that he was.

And that he wasn't overly terrified of his appearance.

A major concern that the blonde always had when introducing himself to someone new, especially new to the academy, was that he might scare them away. Literally. His grotesque, Frankensteinian appearance never did an ounce of good when it came to first impressions, and more often than not it tampered with his otherwise friendly introductions. And Kyle didn't like it one bit. Usually by now, the scrunched up nose and the heavily creased eyebrows, which were often symptoms of disgust, usually were present on the unfamiliar face. If they hadn't already made an excuse to leave that is, making their way down the hall in a much too hasty manner. So it truly meant a lot to Kyle to see that someone was actually, dare he say it, excited to see him. And it only made his white toothy grin last that much longer.

Though Kyle would have preferred to actually shake the man's hand, not his glove. Gloves were good at holding in heat, but they were awful creations when it came to trying to gather it from the outside. That was always Kyle's favourite part of hand shakes. The warmth. Kyle could swear that people avoided contact with him like he was the personification of the plague. He may look it sometimes, but he wasn't at all, and no on knew just how infuriating it was to be that person that no one wanted to be around.

But maybe Silas had his reason to wear gloves. If Kyle produced any heat of his own, he too would invest in gloves, and wear them proudly he might add. But maybe Silas was cold too? He was wearing an awful lot of clothes compared to everyone else who always complained about the moist weather. The suit was nothing like the thick sweat Kyle wore, but it was still a lot to wear nonetheless. Was Silas dead? Kyle's duel coloured eyes narrowed ever so slightly, his gaze fixed onto his neck. Only if Kyle could read someone's pulse just by looking at them. That would make things so much easier.

Once the all too firm handshake was complete, so was Kyle's narrowed stare. He looked back into the gleeful and desperate hazel eyes of the man with a little too much longing in his own.

"Yes, I'm Silas. I'm very delighted to meet you, Kyle."

If once was clairvoyant, or if one could see the insides of someone's brain, on might be able to see or hear the ticking and turning clogs inside Kyle's head. It didn't take a genius to figure out what exactly Silas had said, but Kyle was no genius, and words weren't exactly his specialty. He understood most of the phrase, and it made Kyle happy no less, but he was puzzled by one word that was placed directly in the middle of the sentence.

The tongue of the Spender boy visibly flicked inside his mouth as he attempted to silently mimic the word. But it was harder than it seemed. Delighted. He knew what that meant. Of course he did. He just needed a second. Did he have a second? Trying to put two and two together to make four, the pale skinned young man started replacing the difficult word with words he did know. Sad, tired, mad. No, none of those. Happy. That had to be it. No one could be upset to see someone with a smile like that on their face. Delighted equals happy. Okay. Put that into his mind dictionary.


Although the translation in his mind was slow, and his face slowly starts to become blank as he tried to think, the success of his understanding made him laugh with joy. Not only that but he was also glad that someone was actually happy to meet him. Or should he say delighted?

The commotion in the room that Kyle was overjoyed to see appeared to have drawn Silas' attention away from the matter at hand, despite him agreeing to allow him to show him around. Which Kyle didn't blame him. He was rather distracted too. The heat from the spontaneously combusted curtains were absorbed by his sweater in the best possibly way. He smiled as he crossed his arms over his chest to conserve it. Heat was a beautiful thing, was it not?

However, as quickly as this fire was sparked, it died just as so, ending it's prideful life in a pile of ashes and dust on the floor. One of which he'd probably have to clean up later. Kyle sighed softly. That's okay, he supposed. At least he got something from the poor pile of ashes. But now everyone appeared to be leaving. It was similar to the tides of the ocean the way that people piled in than swam out of places. But Jacq was right, after all. Kyle respected people's spaces, hence why he didn't enter the room until invited, and he didn't want to overstay his welcome, despite Pell no longer being present. Kyle didn't particularly like it when people entered his room unannounced, though that happened a lot quite frankly. But it would probably be worse if he had a roommate. But for violent reasons, he didn't have a roommate, and it was probably for the better.

As Kyle's narrowed mind started to wonder off it's path, Jacqueline made her announcement and short introduction, snapping Kyle out of his daze. His unbeating heart jolted in his chest as she offered his fragile hand to Lazarus, earning a smile from the zombie face passing by him. She really was elegant in everything she did, unlike the klutz of a blonde standing next to the pair. But it was nice to know that he wasn't forgotten in the midst of her ensnaring gestures, because Silas apparently remembered the tour that Kyle had offered a few moments prior.

Almost snapping his neck with the speed he turned to Silas, Kyle nodded vigorously. Why wouldn't he? They might have to leave the room, but that doesn't mean he wasn't up for it. It was his job after all. Limping his uneven way past Jacqueline with a calm smile, he past the threshold of Pell's doorway, hoping the vine of a man would follow him. But apparently not only will Kyle be directing a lost vine around, he was going to be dragging along a thunder cloud too. Hopefully this didn't end too bad. Kyle turned to Aden and nodded with approval. Kyle might need some help explaining things anyway. He could always use an extra pair of hands.

Just don't sew them onto him.

"I am Jacqueline by dz'e way. Jacqueline Lavaeu-Ayers. My friends call me, Jacq The girl said holding out her hand. She was definitely friendly. The only one that actually greeted him. The others seemed more inclined to just walk away with their nose stuck up in the air. He wondered if they were either stuck up snobs or just shy. The latter seemed doubtful.

"Lazarus. Lazarus De Foreza. Just call me Laz." He told her, accepting her handshake. Something finally ticked on why she sounded a bit familiar. The name Lavaeu. That name may have been common on hundred and eighty years ago, but now there was only one woman who used it. The Voodoo Queen of New Orleans, Marie Lavaeu. Besides the coven they were at, Lavaeu controlled half of New Orleans territory, since the war that is.

"By Lavaeu, you don't have any relation to Marie by chance?" He asked her. He doubted that the infamous Fiona Good would allow a relative of her sworn enemy to stay in her coven.

"Lazarus. Lazarus De Foreza. Just call me Laz." The boy said and Jacqueline smiled with a nod as he took her hand. However at that moment, her gaze drifted ever so slightly to the patchwork blonde boy that graced her with a soft smile as he exited Pell's room with the other new comers. There was something oddly attractive about the lad. Not sexual, but..intriguing, the bookworm in her wanted to know more.
"By Lavaeu, you don't have any relation to Marie by chance?" Laz said, calling her attention back to him.

Jacqueline gave a slight chuckle and before she smiled, nodding. "Yes." She said, "I am one of dz'e great granddaughters of dz'e first Marie Lavaeu," She said and looked at him. "And dz'e great niece of dz'e current Voodoo Queen." She told him, seeing the skepticism in his eyes. "She and I are on interesting terms as of late. Which is why Fiona Good, 'as allowed me to attend 'er school." She said, it was a lie, but laced with the truth, Marie told her to say those very things, Jacqueline was a good little actress, she could convince a vegan to buy a steak. She was able to convince Fiona that she and Marie were not on good terms due to Pell, which was partly true, Pell rejected Marie, when Jacqueline hadn't. Jacqueline was heartbroken when her best friend had left and wanted to go with her, Marie told her to go, tell Fiona those things and Fiona jumped at the chance. Why Marie actually wanted her her, not even Jacqueline knew, Marie always had some sort of scheme up her sleeve, Jacqueline was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. She guessed Fiona had one too, the woman wasn't stupid. Jacqueline felt the two of them would be fighting soon enough, and she'd be smack in the middle of it. "What brings you 'ere?" She asked smoothly changing the subject.

Lazarus listened to her story on how she ended up in her new home, her new coven. She was invited to the coven by Fiona Good? Something didn't sound right, there were a lot of holes in that story. Treaties were technically being broken and since when did Fiona ever care about talent. From what he knew of her, she had never actually cared about her coven past her own daughter. There must have been something else up, but instead of saying something he just smiled.




"What brings you 'ere?" Jax asked Lazarus. He thought about that for awhile. He wanted to sound like he had a cool reason for coming to the coven too, besides just learning. However, that was just the thing. He was there only to advance his own knowledge of resurgence so that he could use it later in life. "Well my family sent me here to learn more for my gift. Resurgence. Nothing extraordinary though.. Speaking of gifts, what's yours?" He asked Jax.

"Well my family sent me here to learn more for my gift. Resurgence. Nothing extraordinary though.. Speaking of gifts, what's yours?"

Jacqueline smiled. "I would 'ardly call Resurgence not extraordinary." She mused as she looked him up and down. Resurgence, that was quite the gift.

"My gift." She said and grinned. "I am a Dream Walker." She told him grandly. " I can enter a person's dreams, and within dz'em create my own realm, manipulate it, whatever I like." She said, "I can show you, one day if you like?" She asked him, "You'll 'ave to join me in my room one night." She said, paused and smiled sheepishly, dimples forming in her cheeks as she turned her eyes away. Her face turning slightly pink. She dropped her head with a bashful chuckle.
"Dz'at may 'ave come off a bit cheeky. Dz'at not what I meant. pardonnez-moi" She said with a somewhat bashful grin, deciding to change the subject, she looked back at him.

"Anyway, I can create illusions in dz'e waking world as well, but dz'at is why I attend dz'is school, it is not a skill I am proficient in as of yet." She chuckled.
" I can do small dz'ings." She said and focused her mind, reaching into her gift, she opened her hand and a small flower bloomed from within her palm.
"Pallor tricks, really." She told him as the image flickered like a broken television before it vanished entirely. She shrugged before dropping her hands.

"We 'ave an off day today, Would you like me to show you around?"She offered, knowing she needed to go check on her cousin, but again, lack of sleep, lack of patience.

Cigarettes was a habit most people in the Academy shared, Greyson included. Taking refuge under a shady tree in the garden, Greyson was able to avoid the madness inside of the house. Propped up against the tree with a large text book opened beside her and her notebook in her lap, she seemed like the exemplary student. Each page had her own notes on each herb or flower the book described, along with drawings and notes of what could be paired with it to enhance its properties or redirect them. Her short dark bob was disheveled, as if she hadn't done anything to it since rolling out of bed, which was true.

It wasn't uncommon for Greyson to slip out of the house first thing in the morning, on top of generally not being a very social person, she especially wasn't social in the morning when so many others were so chipper. On top of that there were new arrivals today, and that was like catnip to the residents. Greyson had seen hundreds come and go in the thirteen years she had been there, she hardly bothered with names anymore. There was one shaggy haired blonde that was escorted in, and Hale made his rounds, missing her and yelling up to Aden to greet the new boy, she counted her blessings for remaining unseen.

For a moment the girl just closed her book and watched the house unfold around her as she smoked her cigarette down to the nub. Soon she was the only one outside, until she saw Pell leave. The girl bounced with a sense of determination, and if Pell was being Pell it was most likely with the determination to snub authoritative figures. Fair skinned and dressed in all white, she could've passed as a dream with her lavender hair chasing after her. Lighting another cigarette, she watched Pell carefully as she left, swishing her hips. Shaking her head, Greyson looked back at the front doors as Rowe spilled out, seeming confused as usual until he finally went in his own direction once outside of the gate. It was funny how she barely spoke to her peers, but by spending her time as the fly on the wall she felt like she knew them better than anyone else.

Gathering her things, Greyson flicked the cigarette into the trash, partly aiming and mostly using telekenisis to move the butt into the bin, walking smoothly toward the house. The beating sun gleamed against her tawny shoulders, exposed to the elements, slim hips sashaying. She moved through the common area as if she owned the room, barely registering Jaq and who she assumed was the other newcomer, beelining up the stairs to her room.

Aden and Kyle were in the hall with the blonde she saw entering the house earlier, briefly making eye contact, her face set in resting bitch face. With a small huff she opened her door, which was recognizable by the many stickers covering the door and taped up drawings she had made herself, along with eerie cut outs from magazines of hodgepodge bodies. She'd had her own room since she returned after her gap year, another perk of being a lifer of the Academy. The interior of the room was customized to her comfort with dark velvet drapes and large pillows thrown into a pile on the floor. She closed the windows and the drapes, turning her stereo up loud as Lisa Hall's voice crooned over the speakers, lighting her candles.

Ceremony would be soon, it was time for Greyson to cleanse herself. She lit a bundle of sage, pinching from the bundle and setting the sage in the corners of her room, facing each direction. Sitting in the center of the room, Greyson drew a chalk circle around herself and took a seat, closing her eyes and taking deep breaths. She sat like this for maybe an hour before she was done, standing tall.

She collected her clothes and towel, going into the shower room. The sound of people could be heard in all directions of the house, she felt comforted knowing none of them were bothering her. Her life was simple - study, practice, observe. Her emotions ruled her, when she felt apathetic she did nothing but spend her time hovering over books or her potions, but when her emotions would peak in a sense of false euphoria she's lively and sensual, and often hit by the random mischievous mood she can become ornery and rebellious. Right now all she knew was that she couldn't face the monotony of small talk.

The water was steaming, hitting her skin with veracity, beating it pink. Rubbing a shampoo she made with jasmine and ginger she sang an old Simon and Garfunkel song her mother used to sing. Marx used to say there were glimpses of the old Lillith in the new one, that's what made him stick around so long. Sometimes when she was a little girl, Marx and Greyson would sit outside the bathroom door and hear Lillith sing:

Old friends,
Sat on their park bench
Like bookends.
A newspaper blown through the grass
Falls on the 'round toes
On the high shoes
Of the old friends.

Old friends.
Winter companions,
The old men
Lost in their overcoats,
Waiting for the sunset.
The sounds of the city,
Sifting through trees,
Settle like dust
On the shoulders
Of the old friends

Can you imagine us
Years from today,
Sharing a park bench quietly?
How terribly strange
To be seventy.
Old friends,
Memory brushes the same years,
Silently sharing the same fear.

The same song spilled from Greyson's lips like a lullaby from someone's youth. After the first run she hummed the tune to herself again she she exfoliated with the clay, charcoal and licorice soap she also made at her own workshop. Despite the certainty that other people would be waiting for the shower, Greyson took her time, emerging from the shower soft and smooth, rejuvenated. She changed into her all black garb and throwing on a jacket as she passed her room to throw her dirty clothes in the hamper and grabbing her cigarettes. She took a seat on the front steps and lit her ciggy, resting her chin in her hand as she leaned foward, watching the sun lower in the sky.

After her second cigarette, two heads of technicolor hair walked toward her, she recognized one as Pell. As they came closer she vaguely recognized the other girl from seeing her around town. She looked young, hopeful. Raising her eyebrows at Pell as she passed, Greyson gave a smirk - looking the girls up and down. "How cute, you've brought home a pet."

Pell Laveau

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Pell hadn’t so much as blinked as far as accidental onlookers went. But she could feel their flitting eyes and immediate reserve they executed. If she was that concerned, or out for the attention, she would have gasped and clutched herself like something out of a Betty Boop animation. Maybe even throw in the fanning of the hand, making squeaky noises that might imply she was embarrassed, or something. But Pell wasn’t quite on that level of humility. Sometimes, she acted more like a shameless boy than a girl. Let alone a witch from an aseptic bloodline.

She glanced out while Silas and Hale pressed themselves into the hall, as though there were some sort of laser alarm system at the foot of the doorway they dared not touch. Kyle bounced in and right out again. Typical, for him. At least in the case of unanticipated nudity. Hale looked slightly less shocked, but still red in the face. Hale could not see it as anything less than a chuckle marathon. By now, he was a frequent audience member. He might have laughed with others, but Pell knew that in his solitary mistaken viewings before, he would sort of gawk and stumble away. Hale’s square jaw tensed, fighting back a smile. Silas on the other hand… If his cheeks had bloomed a more fervent color of rose, they might have swelled and popped, too. He was panicked and debased. It looked as though he was blaming himself. Pell had cast him a lukewarm expression, then a small smirk at its edge, “It’s okay, really, Abernathy.” Playfully, she waved a manilla folder with his title on it. That was something she would save for post-Ceremony entertainment. Pell might not have confessed it, but he was very strange and interesting. Which naturally, made a girl like herself, intrigued and committed to figuring out just what the hell was up with the guy.

Medium cooked steak was in the air. The scent was hot and fresh. If it weren’t for Greyson being so alluring and hard to pull from, Pell would have flew to the dining room like a rock from a slingshot. Naked, too. But in spite of her devotion to bloody meat, she cocked her hip at an angle to rest it on her door frame while she talked, or more so, watched, Greyson. Clothed. In the distance she could hear Hale guffawing and shouting out to Rowe about punctuality. Rowe ferociously yelled back and corrected the teacher. An arched brow quirked above gunmetal eyes. Pell grinned. The lavender haired girl edged from her room, reaching in a wayside manner to yank Violet with her. “Stick around as long as you like,” Pell crooned, looking over the array of color in the fresh meat’s locks. “We’ve got plenty of room.” Pausing, the Laveau girl’s scrutiny passed between her closet and Violet. “Oh…”

Her white teeth flashed toward Greyson, who had her doubts about anyone who came in at Pell’s heels. Or, at all, really. Greyson didn’t get excited over newbies. She didn’t even bat an eye sarcastically. She just had her usually cold regard, with some ice in the daggers shot from her stare. Pell liked it, low-key. When the boys were out of sight, she snapped her fingers in response to Violet’s question about Ceremony. “Don’t be embarrassed,” she piped up suddenly as Greyson was stripped of everything but her bra and panties, “I don’t have time to sift through my closet with you and if you’re coming, you need to follow dress code.” Pell wasted no more time in the effort. Something black, something that would ‘fit’ to Violet’s style, even if just barely. In a matter of seconds, ebony garb manifested itself, sheer at the torso to give glimpses of Violet’s pale skin.

“Now you’re set,” Pell continued, wandering into the hallway and following Greyson’s finger which had only moments ago grazed Pell’s cheek. The girl must have looked like a little puppy in that moment. Snapping out of it, she watched Greyson go. It was a good opportunity to give Violet a moment to gather herself and maybe take a look at her reflection. The dorm hall became busy. In passing, Jacqueline might have noticed Pell with the new girl, but probably not. She had a bit of candy on her own arm, strolling around the school with her usual smooth demeanor, that cool dialect of hers probably wrapping him around her finger. He seemed content with the idea of her tour and it being more exclusive than the ones given by Kyle, head sort of bobbing happily, shaggy hair shifting as he listened to Jacqueline speak. Pell choked back a snide sexual remark at her own cousin, figuring she could save it for the wine segment of dinner. Besides, even if Jacqueline didn’t acknowledge Pell, she knew she was there, knew what she was thinking.

Pell jerked her head in the direction of the stairs, knowing Violet would follow. She kept her at arm’s length, though. Didn’t want to lose her. “So this is Robichaux,” she briefed, “Established in some… Late 1800’s, maybe. It’s a school for witches. We have class schedules, our own rooms, freedom to roam if you’re legal, and every Wednesday we have ‘Ceremony.’ It’s kind of how we stay in touch with our roots. Or, at least that’s how I see it.”

Once they made it to the main floor, the dusky luster from candles had taken the place of electricity. Hundreds of smells were in the air. Most notably: sage, Delmonico, garlic, and a dash of Merlot. Even some Louisiana fruit aroma had crept through the windows. Pell loved these kind of nights, knowing that the fresh air was coming in, but nothing was getting out. It was a liberating sort of evening. Most of the students and household dreaded it. It forced them to maintain some kind of prompt schedule. To Pell it was an excuse to get drunk and set shit on fire, plainly. But of course there were other perks. Say… Like the possibility of yet another new student, learning advanced spells if Fiona herself was drunk enough, and just letting loose.

The vibrant duo approached the mouth of the dining room, where Hale and Kyle now stood side by side. Kyle’s sandy hair frisked itself as he eagerly requested permission to personally serve new students. And more specifically, Silas. Mostly everyone would be rolling their eyes at his enthusiasm. But Pell hoped that he’d keep that virtue and that people would embrace it. It helped him feel alive. Judging from Hale’s taut regard, there would be no special treatment or excepting meal serving. She frowned at his disapproval, but understood that there was good reason behind it. Hale encouraged and always backed proactive behaviors. Unfortunately, he was under strict surveillance especially during Ceremony hours. There was always business to attend to on Wednesday’s, and he followed protocol. It was bizarre to see him so upright and obedient. Pell might have even scoffed and giggled as she walked by him to find her seat at the center of the table, beside Greyson rather than parallel, to let Violet sit on the other side and have a taste of the ‘finer things’. If she did decide to stick around, she might not sit at this area for a long, long time.

Soon the seats were filled, and voices were low. Even Arturo's growling had ceased. The candle chandelier swung slowly above the buffet and its consumers. But no one dared touch a fork. Cordelia stood, glass of wine in hand, clouded eyes blinking as she waited for total silence. And then she dimpled politely, “Welcome to Ceremony. I know we have a few newcomers, and a visitor,” her smile wavered, probably in the event of Pell being so rushed she forgot to ask permission, “So let me be the first to say, don’t be scared.” A short laugh followed, and she went on, “I’ll save the long speech, I know you all must be starved. Regulations are the same. This area is sealed until midnight. You will not be able to leave unless asking permission.” Emphasis sunk into the last two words. Bowing her head, she smoothed her skirt and took a seat, “Dig in."