New Orleans, Louisiana

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.

"You're going to get fat," were the words called out that brought him out of his stupor. He had been finally settling in to a sort of dazed state, not asleep but not quite all there, when Pell had come over and spotted him on the couch in his current antisocial glory. He bit back the urge to make a snide comment back and she began to explain her statement. “Throwing things and eating bread isn’t really a real regiment." Rowe rolled his eyes, leaning back and tilting his head so he was looking straight at her without having to get up. There was a group with her, more people than he was used to seeing in one group, but didn't think much of it. If these were the ones left at the school, it would make sense they would all be flocking together to leave. And they were leaving, he was sure of it. Pell wasn't passing by the ancestry room just to bug Rowe, after all.

"Lucky for me I wasn't going for a real regiment," he said, stressing the last word. "Whatever the hell you meant by that."
With that he pushed himself up off the couch and stretched, causing several bones in his arms and neck to crack. It would have probably grossed him out actually, if it wasn't his own body. Pell and her herd were already moving on, and in a last second decision Rowe found himself walking toward the front door himself. On the way out he saw a red headed girl, who looked a bit flustered if he was honest. He couldn't really say why, no one seemed to bugging her in that moment. He paused before nodding at the door and looking at her.
"You coming?" he asked before walking past her to the front door. He stepped out to see Pell bounding- yes, bounding- down the porch steps to the gate. Rowe was watching people leave when the sun caught his eyes, causing him to wince and look down. He hated the sun, mostly because it hurt his eyes. He never could get used to bright lights, and really needed to invest in some sun glasses. Especially here, where it was either straight up burning bright or completely murky. He rarely saw nice "medium" days.

It took him a moment but he finally managed to look somewhat up without having to squint against the light. He walked out the front gate before stopping, realizing he had no where to go. He could obviously follow Pell, but he had no idea where she was going and if he'd have any interest in it. Not to mention he didn't really like big groups of people, and he was sure people would follow her. He didn't mind talking to people, not at all, but when there was too many people he felt kind of overwhelmed. Rowe instinctively reached in his bag for his phone before realizing it wasn't in his bag, it was on the floor. Smashed. Groaning, he decided on where he was going. He was going to go buy a phone, and a cheap ass one at that. He had no doubts that he could end up smashing another phone if he lost his temper, and he wasn't going to go buy another nice phone for it to end up trash.

With a sigh, Rowe began his walk into town, trying in vain to not let the bright sun bother him too much.

Undisclosed Location-Witch Hunter Facility


Boom. Bang. Zoom. Sounds of shots fired echoed deep within the training grounds of a hidden Witch Hunter facility. Weapons, Targets, and Obstacle Courses, the best that money could buy and it was at one man's disposal. Benjamin stared down the scope of his gun as he fired on several moving targets. Then pieces of plastic, gel, and metal flew off the ballistic dummy making a grim representation of what a human body looks like when put through several high caliber rounds. The gun fired dozens of bullets within seconds as all targets were effectively shot down. This wasn't enough, Benjamin unhooked and lobbed a few grenades which caused spectacular explosion of frag and gel making the scene look like a fountain. Ben loaded up his weapons and prepared for another round of training.

This time he exercised his martial skills. Several dummies popped up around him as they were met with a fury of blows. Punches and kicks galore as the gel rippled with waves from the forceful impact of his blows. Machines were recording the psi which was impressive, impressive enough to break some bones. This was all apart of a daily regiment to make sure that his body was in top shape. He knew that one day he would break the curse and end his family's centuries long mission. Quickly, the hunter grabbed his favored long sword and began to cut through the ballistic dummies. The blade cut deep within as it slashed through the gel and fake bone as arms were cut off, and torsos slashed in two. His swordsmanship was fluid as he ended his deadly dance by decapitating the last dummies head clean off.

Benjamin took a deep breathe as he exhaled. Sweat dripped off his body as he completed his hours long training regiment. He entered the showers and prepared himself for the day ahead of him. Except this day would be like no other. He exited the training grounds as an elevator took him to the ground level as an announcement rang out over the intercom. "Benjamin Hawthorne this is the Control Room, a call has been forwarded to your office. It is of the utmost importance, sir." spoke a woman. It must be serious, usually he receives calls over his cell phone, but in this case someone doesn't want somebody else to eavesdrop. Calls here are over a secure and encrypted line, that could mean the Government might be aware of their operations or Delphi has been compromised. Curiosity peaked, he had to hear for himself. He entered his office as he pressed a button over his desk as the call came through.

"Harrison Renard is dead." A gravelly voice echoed from the phone. Ignoring the pleasantries Benjamin responded.
"The Salem Descendants?" He asked.
"Yes and Marie Lavaeu." The voice answered.
"How?"
"Harrison's son, Henry forced their hand and left Delphi open for a counterattack...there were no survivors." The voice spoke grimly.
"Hmph, I've always known that boy would be a great disappointment...even his own father knew that." Benjamin scoffed.
"Yes, but Harrison was a sentimental fool, he allowed his love for his son to cloud his judgement." The voice venomously spoke.
"Do the witches know about us?"
"No, the foolish witches did not think to dig too deep into Delphi...their ignorance will cost them."

Ben then smiled.

"It is time for us to repay them in kind. Operation Crusade is now in effect." A pause had then settled.
"You must head to New Orleans and eradicate the Salem Descendants and Marie Lavaeu's Sect in any way you see fit." The voice calmly spoke. "I do believe it is time to put that military background of yours to work." He spoke with a slight chuckle. Then came a loud scream over the call. The voice growled, "SILENCE THAT VERMIN!" He shouted as the sounds of a woman crying were muffled by a loud gunshot.

"Sorry, Benjamin just another failed experiment." He spoke without actually sounding like he felt sorry.
"No need, thank you for your call Doctor." Benjamin spoke as he ended the call.

Finally, Operation Crusade has been launched. Salem's punishment has long since been overdue, it was time to carry out his ancestor's sentence. Operation Crusade gave him unrestricted access to all resources that were not confiscated during the raid on Delphi, which was a lot all things considering. Not to mention access to all the Witch Hunters in North America, it was time to put his military background to work indeed. He began to sound off orders to those in the building, as men began to load up munitions and equipment. He also put an order to have other Hunter Bases ready themselves for the coming conflict. The Witches may have believed that they have won the war, but in truth it has only just begun.

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.

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Violet fluttered through the town with an appearance that reminded people of butterflies or unicorns. Her hair was rainbow streaked and teased by the wind as she hurried through the town. In what might be frowningly described as 'short' shorts and a floaty blouse, she felt quite free and elegant as she made her way through the crowds in town. She didn't know what she was looking for but she was looking for something as her exposed long pale legs guided her through an unfamiliar town. She'd lived there for quite a while but she had only been into the town half a dozen times and the sights and routes still confused her and were sketchy in her memory as she passed down different avenues and streets.

She'd lived in town for maybe seven months now, she couldn't pin point exactly how long she'd been there but she could say she'd taken an instant liking to the place, everything felt so unusual and mysterious which she appreciated and there was also the factor that she hadn't fucked up here. No history, no ties, no reputation- she could just be herself and hopefully, nothing would go wrong this time.

She unconsciously walked past the magnificent Academy on her route to town and though she noticed and spent a long moment giving the architecture an adoring stare, she didn't let it divert her from her mission to get into town and find something worth splashing out on. She was bored as ever so she was desperate to find a way to waste her time or money, or in the best of circumstances- both. She was one of those people who couldn't stand boredom which was maybe why her hair covered the entire light spectrum or why her skin was pierced with metal rings.

She kicked a forgotten, battered and quite clearly lost dog ball from under her feet with a black Chelsea boot and she sighed softly. There wasn't a worse feeling in the world, than boredom because if you're bored you don't even feel anything really, it's just total vacancy and withdrawal and that was her trial of thought as she stumbled and made her way down the littered dark road. She kind of danced down the street despite her low mood and frequently had to keep moving her hair from her face to her own complete and utter frustration but despite the impracticality, she loved it. Her hair was her pride and joy, she dyed it with the most expensive dyes so it always looked bright and didn't fade or get screwed over, she used expensive shampoos to hold the colour and she was constantly getting treatments for it. She just completely treasured every last strand of it- in the least vain way possible.

Her hand dived into her back pocket and retrieved a white carton and she flicked it open, removing the toxic poison between two fingers and placing it between her tight pink lips, holding it there with her teeth whilst she swapped the carton for a lighter and flicked releasing a lashing flame. She lit the cigarette quickly and without problem before taking it back between the tips of two pale fingers and raised it up to her mouth again to take a long, slow drag of the smoke. As she continued walking she eyed a cafe, it seemed nice enough and they had outdoor seating which is what sold the idea of stopping for a coffee to her. She waited outside for five or so minutes to cherish her cigarette and then once the best of it was smoked and in internally damaging her, she took a few steps into the cafe and made her way to the till making an order for a large double-shot coffee and helping herself to an unholy amount of sugar from the side to add to it. She drank the coffee scolding hot and it didn't bother her much, it probably ought to but the temporary sting that was soon replaced by the strong angry taste of strong coffee made the slight burn more than worth while.

She sat down in a metal chair which had a vine-like design crafted into it and she rested her legs on the table before her as she relaxed, sipping from her cup like she didn't have a care in the world but her expression was ridiculously thoughtful all the same as she pondered over how to slay the endless, infinite sense of boredom assaulting her. She had one idea.

One, terrible, terrible idea.

Phasing?

She sussed she could get away with a small amount, so setting her cup down on the table, she rest her palm against the top and stared at it intently as she tried to make an educated guess on how likely she was to get caught if she did but before she'd given it a second thought, she allowed her hand to disappear and sink through the table as easily as air. She smiled at the sight and performed the same action in reverse this time giggling softly at herself like it was a brilliant joke but when she turned her sharp and alert gaze upwards, she noticed a group of teenagers approaching the coffee store and quickly stopped. Returning her hand to her coffee cup like she was as normal as anyone else there.

Sorry! I think I accidentally tagged someone in this!

"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.

Decimus King sat in the quiet suburban home, upon a faded beige lounge, its colour that just right shade where you cant tell if it was meant to be that colour or was just dirty. Decimus guessed it was the latter judging by the rest of the house, its sparse furnishings giving rise to the guess that the man who owned the home was one not prone to ostentatious decoration. A plain sturdy coffee table, clearly well used, stained and loved sat in the middle of the room, a large, plasma screen television sat on a stand in the corner, opposite the small, two person Lounge Decimus sat upon.

That was sprayed by the arterial blood that had spurted from his companions neck.

The man next to Decimus was clearly dead. His throat ripped out in a savage display of animalistic brutality. What little blood had not been consumed by Decimus either decorated the beige couch or had drained to the lower portion of his body. It was a grisly sight to behold, but Decimus cared not.
"Hahhhh..." Decimus sighed, raising a remote and pressing a button, increasing the cool breeze emanating from the central cooling unit to a frigid gale, "Henry, you weren't a flamboyant man, but you definitely knew the value of practical appliances." He lay there in the cool, the air conditioning being the only reason he hadn't already left. The Louisiana heat was something one did not trifle with lightly if one could avoid it, and Decimus was quite happy here, safe in the knowledge that he was not going to be discovered any time soon. From what he had gleaned from Henrys blood memories, he lived alone, had few friends and his parents lived a state over. So for as long as he didn't have to leave the cool of the house, he wouldn't. He didn't like eating mortals, it was better than eating animal blood but just barely. It was bland and tasteless, the lack of magical talent leaving the blood without flavour and spice. like the difference between eating a seasoned roast and a burnt rodent toasted over a fire.
"Soon we can feast though." Said a voice in his head.
"Soon indeed," He said to the empty room, "But it will become harder to get away with now that the war is over."
"That has never bothered you before." Said another voice.
"You have never cared if you got caught." Said another.
"We are testament to that." chimed a third.
"Enough!" Decimus cried, his voice echoing in the empty home, "I will not be berated by the ghosts of my meals!" he was greeted by nothing but silence. He sighed and lifted his arm, turning off the air conditioning, "Now look what you've gone and done, ruined my perfectly good day."
He stood and made his way down the hall to the bathroom, using the sink and a towel to clean off his blood smeared face. He finished and inspected himself in the mirror, flashing himself that charming smile he knew people loved so much.
"I always look so much better after a meal." He said to himself, before drying off, and making his way out the front door, the door to the grisly murder scene closing with a soft click.

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.

Pell Laveau

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What was it about the snags in her mentality that left her on either end of a bipolar spectrum at any given moment? Pell peered into the sky with mild disinterest. The height of her cheeks glowed under Louisiana sunlight, warm April days making every moment feel like a summery inferno. Her stride along paved walkways was melodic, a sort of slowed cat walk. It was elegant, even dangerously sexy, as she once heard a man say to her mother. Pulling her lavender hair into her hands, taking its length into the air and letting it fall all around her face and shoulders, Pell sighed.

She made no friends. She didn’t want friends. Jacqueline was all she really needed and… Well there was Kyle, he kept Pell level and even a little more gentle and kind. ‘Course Hale wasn’t such a bad addition to the pathetic and miniature social circle, either. But Pell found it increasingly difficult to stand people let alone listen to them talk. It was getting to a dangerous, volatile point. She felt herself slipping up almost twice a day with these unsettling and morbid urges. Wanting to light someone on fire or bleed them out a little so that she could experiment in the likes of voodoo. The terrifying urges often left her lastingly guarded with a shield charm, so that anyone in the school with half a brain couldn’t peer into hers. If they did, they might find something worth going to Council about, something worth losing sleep over. Self control was on its deathbed. Pell fought like hell but there was wickedness at play. Who was she becoming? Better yet, what?

A cigarette was held between her teeth when she rounded the first corner onto Applegate street, just by the pinnacle cafe in town. String lights dangled between buildings, the aroma of home made goods in the air as she passed beneath them and took a slow drag from the smoke. The upper atmosphere stretched its blue away, orange haze annexing the white natural light that was alive only just a few minutes ago. It gave a tangerine-colored radiance to the dynamic center village. Pell pulled the grocery list from her pocket, scanning it and figuring it was best to conquer that first, since the signs of daylight were fading and she couldn’t be late to Ceremony. With a flick of her digits, the cigarette was discarded and her silhouette disappeared into a butcher’s shop.

The index of stores and delis she had to visit simply to appease the demands of academy staff and the supreme was kind of mind-blowing. Generally Kyle would hobble into the stores and do all the dirty work, but Pell knew he felt similar to Frankenstein when seen in public. Which is why she didn’t mind handling the majority of the ‘outing chores’. However, once she reemerged from the last destination, plastic bags weighing into the skin of her wrist and leaving aches in her muscles, she thought of how she really could have used his help. He loved tours, loved the sense of purpose it gave him, and there was promise of new hope and talent, even friendship with fresh faces. She couldn’t blame him for wanting to show someone around rather than go out in public and be an errand boy. It was difficult to stop off and grab a last minute outfit for Ceremony, though, being that she had no free hands. Irritably she snagged pieces from the racks, paid and left with a huff on her lips.

Peach colored streaks above were fading into ominous purple by the time Pell was on her way out of the small town, passing the darling coffee shop on the corner again. Pell nearly tripped and dropped all her groceries when she saw a companionless girl with polychromatic hair, her porcelain hand passing through the vineyard design of the table she sat at. Survival instincts kicked in viciously. Pell flailed, and stumbled over her, shielding her in a way, eyes wide as she hoarsely whispered, “Have you never heard of the Hawthornes or Delphi? You could have gotten killed,” Pell’s grayish eyes flitted as she scanned the area, “Someone could be watching. There are people out there, that are waiting for the right opportunity to hunt people who do the shit you just did.”

She took the girl by the wrist, pulling her from the chair with such a spontaneous burst of intuition that it might have singed the girl's skin. Another witch. Just roaming, tempting her fate. “Don’t ask questions, for now.” Pell breathed calmly finally, hauling the stranger back toward the academy with her and not stopping until she reached the gates. What was this? Why was Pell going all Mama Coven all the sudden? Pausing, she pivoted to release the bewildered girl whose hair glowed under the grand lamplight of the academy. “This is a place where we… You know…” She kind of fumbled with words, letting her head fall back as she exhaled deeply, mind rampant with chaos. The bags tugged at her limbs as she struggled to bear their weight. She turned to face the large ivory building, a warning bell sounding from inside. An hour to Ceremony. “Are you hungry, would you want to come in for dinner?” A giant grin nipped at Pell’s lips as she looked over her shoulder at the girl and began walking toward the front door, an invitation that had riddle and enticement written all over it. "You can be who you really are in here, not have to hide it."

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."

The Pink haired girl hadn't been the only one to notice the witches careless display of magic. Forcing your had through an object was nothing exactly flamboyant, but it was surely something that would get you noticed, and humans were the least of that witches problems. Decimus stood in the cool of a shop front, some grocery store, revelling in the cool interior. Not that it truly helped much, and a bead of sweat still dripping down his temple from his hairline, running down his cheek and dissipating along his chin.
"Why, why do they always live in hot places. Just once I would like to hunt somewhere where it is cool." He muttered to himself as he watched the violet haired girl drag off the rainbow haired one.
"You'll be happy for the heat when you start losing blood." Said a woman's voice from the back of his mind.
"Shut up!" He snapped, startling a nearby employee who cautiously moved away. He sighed, he really needed to stop doing that, it did little to prevent him getting noticed. Another Employee, a woman with a tie, probably a manager or some sort approached him, cautious of the man in the strange clothes.
"Excuse me sir, can I help you with anything?" She asked tersely, clearly keen to see him gone.
He turned and flashed her a toothy grin, "Just browsing, Thank you."
The obvious lie made ever the more obvious by the fact he wasn't even looking at the shelves, but the two girls walking away down a side street.
"I don't think you can help me with what I need." He said, turning and exiting the cool shop and into the oppressive heat of the Louisiana afternoon. "But I think I know who can." He muttered as he made haste after the girl with the violet hair.

He followed at a distance, The violet one clearly too preoccupied berating the rainbow girl to notice his pursuit. Wherever she was taking her, it was good news. Witches and Warlocks rarely lived alone, unless they were, like Decimus, prone to murderous tendencies. The Majority lived in communal groups, or "Covens". Decimus found the whole thing rather boring. He understood the practicality of learning how to better harness your gifts, his mother had introduced him to many other travelling Haemomancers during his childhood who had taught him various tricks and skills. However he couldn't understand the desire to stay in one place for your whole life, living with the same people, doing the same thing every day. Life was short, especially for Haemomancers, and to waste but a single day was tantamount to the greatest of sins.
That brought a chuckle to his lips.
As if he were in a place to berate anyone on their sins.
The Girls reached the gate of an Estate, and turned to talk. The violet one appeared to be inviting Rainbow girl inside. Considering she had just all but dragged her here, the sentiment seemed lost. This was all Decimus needed to see. Where there was one witch, there would be others. Decimus had already eaten today, even if it was just a mortal. He would wait and stake out the Coven, and pick his choice of the delicacies available.

//sorry I was gone so long, my grandpa died and I needed some time with the family. I have caught up on the posts since I left and will try my best to remain active.

Rather than going around making friends or dealing with ceremony -whatever the hell that is- Bambi decided to scurry back to her room and pretend she never met Madison. Pretend that the lavender-haired beauty had never seen her... Pretend she was home with her kid brother making fried ice-cream sandwiches.

She shuffled past many people, rather embarrassed that she had been so clueless. -Coward. say thank you to that nice girl. she bothered to tell you there wasn't class; which is more than I can say for the rest of these freaks.- Her mom's voice whispered in her ear.

"Shut up, bitch. You aren't even real." Bambi whispered to the voice scratching away at her sanity. She already had to listen to the booming voices of an entire school, the last thing that Bambi needed was a scolding from her dead mother. She ran outside of the crowded school. Bambi nodded at the occasional student -If only someone had bothered to tell you whether or not attendance at this so called ceremony is required. Looks like you will have to start up a conversation.- Her mom jested, causing Bambi to stop in her tracks. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Pell, dragging along another girl she didn't recognize. Having already bothered Pell once today, Bambi went in search of someone else, anyone else...

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Khi's instant response to release herself from the grip and in order to free herself from the intense grasp of the strange girl, she let her hand phase through the skin but she did follow quickly and steadily after her because the girl had recognised what she'd done which meant she knew something about herself that Violet had to find out. She kept up with her gripping on her bag to her thigh to prevent it from flying around especially since it was such a heavy weight with her purse and her possessions in, though the bag's recklessly flight was nothing compared to the way psychedelic hair got wind-swept behind her, constantly chasing after her body until they stopped at a large set of gates and Violet turned to her with a slight glare that dropped when she saw how friendly and welcoming the girl's expression was.

"What the hell was that?" She asked with an arched brow momentarily disregarding the question about dinner. She stared at her ever so confused and her electric eyes buzzing thoughtfully and eccentrically as she tried to piece together where she was and what was going on. She turned in a circle on the spot, staring at what was around her- at the academy and it's grandeur. It was almost enduring or intimidating to encounter such a divine location- coming from an average background being invited into buildings like this was a dream to her or a foolish wish. She took in a breath and couldn't help chuckling a little as she looked up at the girl with heliotrope her, she wouldn't announce it just yet since it'd seem more than inappropriate but she did admire the girl's taste in hair dye but she had a wacky and peculiar taste in fashion herself. She pondered over the girl's question as she ran a hand through her multicoloured hair and caught her breath "I guess it'd give you an opportunity to explain why I feel like I've just been abducted off the streets- which would be sweet if you could explain why you've done that by the way," She added biting her tongue slightly creasing her pierced nose slightly as she pulled a thoughtful expression.

She looked around and noticing over people dappled around the area, a couple of girls and the more she looked the more people she'd spy and she figured it must be boarding house of some kind because under whatever situation would so many teenagers and young adults live under one roof?

Her mind instantly swamped with all kinds of questions, thoughts, theories, hypothesis', conclusions, guesses, hopes and fears about the place she was in and she didn't know what to voice first after making her confusion and obliviousness to their situation known. As she continued to pace a little within a one meter radius, stepping a little bit further into the area each minute she turned her head sharply and looked at the indigo haired girl who'd practically dragged her here like she was saving her from a tsunami of racing, angry, cannibal bulls. "Sorry to be blunt but what the hell is this place? Are you part of some kind of freaky ass cult or something?" She looked at her with an amused wide grin as she ran a hand through her tousled crazy hair and laughed softly at their situation- it was just so bizarre, two girls with quirky hair, in an opulent house after one saw the other perform an impossible trick and oh yeah- their strangers and there's no discomfort in the conversation at all despite the fact, they've just ran down a high street like they were about to be mugged by gangsters and had no idea who each other were. Yet, like always Violet took crazy in her stride and looked at the girl, her brow slightly quirked as she shut her trap for a moment to give the other girl long enough to even comprehend her questions and formulate an answer to give.

(I do apologize for the length or lack thereof- I just didn't want to inflict any more waiting/Silas's insanity on anyone than I already had to.)


For a moment Silas froze, a perfect statue with a pasted on grin, clasped hands, and wide, wide eyes like a deer caught in the headlights of a semi truck. It was almost like he was short-circuiting, a temporary “blue screen of death” taking over his mind. The only movement near his body was a single sweat droplet casually meandering down his neck and below his collar. Even his breathing stopped, chest still pushed out from a sudden inhale, oxygen trapped in his lungs. Another tour guide. He would be getting another tour guide, apparently, and it was his second least favorite person he'd met here so far (Madison still had the number one spot if only because her insults were more direct and creative). Oh, dear.

In times of panic, intense like life or death or less so like traveling the inescapable maze of social interactions that was life, Silas would prefer to be optimistic. A life of optimism had served him well growing up, had allowed him to survive some very gloomy situations, and Auntie Lavinia always seemed so terribly distressed when he seemed sad. It was just that, well, he’d had a very stressful day up until now. He'd been collected and taken from the only home and family he'd ever known, he'd been used as a metaphorical chew toy by the first person he'd asked for help, he'd succeeded in alienating or begin ignored by almost everyone he'd met so far, his roommate had burned their curtains and then abandoned him in a room full of strangers, and his one escape from a plan of enforced solitude with the only truly friendly person he'd met so far had now been intruded upon. So, yes, it took a moment for his optimism to kick in today. However, when it did, it kicked in with a gusto.

No, no need to worry, said the very same part of him that had kept him sane for so many years. He was sure that his new schoolmate only had the best of intentions. Haha, the joke was done, the (what he was still pretty sure was)hazing was done, and now Aden wanted to extend the proverbial olive branch by co-guiding his tour with Kyle. This would be a truly lovely bonding experience, and he would surely come out of it with a better understanding of both young men as well as, dare he hope, new friends. Yes, only good could come from this.

Silas didn’t really believe all that, not for a minute- he was optimistic not stupid. But it was a nice fantasy to cling to as a coping mechanism as he returned to the world of the waking, brain and body coming back online.

“Of course,” he said, dipping into his dwindling enthusiasm reserves. “The more the merrier, I always say. Shall we go, then?”

The statuesque moment had lasted around a second and was now casually swept away with a bobbing nod and a blessed return to breathing.

Aden held no dreamy thoughts that he was pleasant to be around, any idealization that he had friends at all. He didn't want to be liked, didn't want his company enjoyed, didn't want people to hang out with. Aden liked himself just the way he was and it was fine if no one else did. Why try and build expectations of ones self that you couldn't live up to.

So he wasn't surprised when his company wasn't met with smiles and nods and shouts of excitement. He had always been a dark shadow behind others, and that was fine. Aden was who he was, and he didn't need anyone else. But he was also bored, so joining Kyle and the new kid was more for the sake of having something to do than appease anyone's desires but his own. Besides, Kyle was quite, and Silas was...

Fuck it, they were both annoying optimistic brats. But they were all he had to work with. Besides, they were friendly. Kyle loved company so much he didn't even try to say no to Aden. And Silas, for whatever reason, didn't either. Maybe he thought deep down Aden's soul was made out of pink, fluffy, care.

Joke was on him, Aden didn't have a soul.

"Cool," he said once they were both out of Pell's room and ready to go, leaning back on the wall and taking a drag from his cigarette. He would tag along, let Kyle do his thing, maybe explain some shit when the kid couldn't find his words. SO he motioned with his free hand for Kyle to lead the way, and hoped maybe a random bolt of lightening would strike him dead at some point.

Kyle gave tours a lot. A lot more than one would probably think. But despite giving tours to every newcomers that stops by, Kyle hardly ever knew where to start. Should he just start in the main entrance way, despite it being obvious that that was the entrance? Should he show the important places first and then go to all the knooks and crannies? Or should he just go to the next room and work his way around like a snake? Some people liked it one way and other liked it another, often times getting confused and having to ask again where the bathrooms were if Kyle ended up switching the two preferred ways of learning around. It was all very complicated to the young man, and it may not seem like much to just point and say what the room was, Kyle took it extremely seriously. Far more seriously than probably what was good for him.

He even had drawn out a small route on a picture of the basic floor plan to try and figure it out.

But they were starting in a weird spot this time. They weren't entering the house or passing the main gate. They were in the student hall already, which was almost always the last place Kyle showed. He liked showing their room last because that way they can unpack as soon as they felt somewhat familiar with the house. But this is simply backwards. Silas already knew his room and dropped off his stuff, and now Kyle was at a loss trying to figure out where to end this small journey and how to end it on a good note.

But first things were always first.

After the small trio made their way out of Pell's room and into a less busy section of the student hallway, Kyle turned to Silas, flicking a thick curl of blonde hair away. He held his hand out flat, palm facing the floor and he swiped it back and forth slightly as if to level the air out. "First." The first floor that is. "Second floor." The f was a little delayed but it was fine, really. But Kyle held his other hand above the first, leveling out the particles in the air in the same manner as the first. "Students." He said with a hint of a smile. Before, Kyle had always said kids, because that was easy, but he recently had been forcing himself to use the correct terms. So 'student' was a new term he taught himself, at least speaking wise. Kyle, once he had stopped moving the second hand, removed his first hand from the 'first floor' and placed it over top of the second story. "Students." Silas could figure out the age system later. He didn't need to know that right at this moment.

Finally, Kyle placed the second story hand over top of the third story hand for the final floor of the building. "Fourth floor, Staff." Staff was clearly much harder to verbalize, seeing as the 'a' was long and somehow the 'f's gained a soft 'r' sound, but it was good enough.

No, no it wasn't, actually.

" Staff." Kyle corrected himself, erasing the invisible 'r' this time around. The 'a' remained long.

He figured that that was a good place to start. Knowing which floor was generally used for what was good, basic information. Now the layout of the rest of his home would make at least a little more sense. The undead took only a moment out of his internal clock to wait for Silas' confirmation that he understood. But after that, Kyle didn't waste a second, seeing as he turned around and headed for the stairs.

There wasn't a whole lot going on down in the main entry way, seeing as Pell had already left for the store and all the commotion earlier had fizzled out. This didn't surprise Kyle at all, seeing as he was used to socialization generally being spontaneous and short lived. So Kyle didn't spend much time in the main entry way. Silas could figure what it was on his own. If he couldn't then Kyle would have some concerns. But they merely went by several of the basic rooms, the the large living area, the bathrooms, all of which only needed a title and thus only got as much.

But the three hit the dining room and Kyle stopped and starred. The table was set up for the five course meal that they all would have at 7, but of course the candles weren't lite and the plates and silverware weren't out yet. That was his job when the time came to it. There was a lot that Kyle wanted to say about the room, most of it having to do with ceremony, but as he stood there for several sends, he tried to filter out as much as possible as to not confuse the young man.

He should mention that ceremony is tonight, for sure. And he should probably tell him that it's at 7 and they'll eat in the dining room first. Those were a must. But he should probably leave the actual schedule of ceremony out. It'll generally be obvious once it starts, and he could always ask questions later. He should also mention wearing black, that was important too.

"Ceremon-" Wait, wait, you have to tell him this is the dining room you moron. Taking a sharp breath in, distinctly cutting off his previous babble, Kyle let it out slowly, turning to Silas with a smile, white teeth poking through his pale lips."This is dining hall." He held his hands out slightly to gesture to the space around him. Now you can talk about ceremony. "Ceremony starts here." Very rough around the edges, and it sounded as if Kyle was addressing someone named Sir E. Money rather than saying a word, and he stuttered ever so slightly in the spaces between the syllables, but it came out.

Stepping back a few paces, Kyle placed his hand on the back of one of the wooden chairs,"Meal," he then held up his hands, putting up one finger at a time until he reached,"Seven." Or rather, "At Seven. Wear black." Black was an easy word, and so was wear.

Nodding with a twitchy smile, Kyle let his hands fall back to his sides. His miscoloured eyes glanced at the tattooed young man with them. Aden was an interesting fellow. He wasn't the nicest student out of the small bunch that they had, but interesting nonetheless. The things he chose to say and the things he hose to do almost always confused him beyond belief. For instance, today. Out of all the time in the world for him to tag along on one of Kyle's tours, which he has never done before, mind you, why did Aden decide this one? Was Silas somehow different than any other newcomer to the lad? Or was Aden just getting fond of the idea of Kyle looking like a fool while trying to say something?

If Kyle thought about it, neither would be all too surprising, actually. After all, it's just like people to poke fun at someone who stumbles. New or not.

Lightly gripping his arm with his hand Kyle nodded briefly to Aden, but with a quick snap, he was locked onto the thin vine yet again. Vines were always more interesting than clouds anyway. It seemed like forever he stood there, chuckling in a shallow manner with nervous cheeks flinching into a smile. There were advantages to not having flowing blood. It saved you the embarrassment of turning tomato red at inopportune times.

With a sudden haste, Kyle practically launched himself into his wobbly stride. They exited the dining hall to continue on their tour, since there was still so much to show Silas. One of which was Kyle favourite. They passed through the main entrance area again, but this time, a rainbow, or perhaps a butterfly even, was somehow standing next to Pell. Who herself was carrying a obviously heavy bag. Eyebrows quirking up and down and his lips scrunched to the side of his face, the blonde walked over to the pair, seemingly forgetting Silas and Aden. He stopped and stood by Pell's side, putting his hands in his pockets and offering a curious smile at the rather startled young women who Pell apparently dragged here. Not the most opportune way of coming to the acedemy but he didn't know the circumstances so he shouldn't judge.

You really shouldn't judge at all but especially when you don't know the story.

But Pell's uncomfortable shifting with the bags drew Kyle's eyes to it instead. Leaning slightly over to see what's inside, he saw the butchered meat that he would have to help serve at ceremony. He was actually supposed to get it himself, the heavy lifting usually was his job after all, but Kyle always appreciated the help. But he didn't want the girl to kill herself doing it.

Grabbing the handles of the bags with a single hand, Kyle lifted the bag enough to allow Pell to not be the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Her wrists and hands were red as it is. From there, Kyle gently tugged the bag out of her grip. He needed to go to the kitchen to set up the table anyway. He could drop it off. Assuming Pell did let go, Kyle held both bags of sliced meat in his left hand, giving Pell a nod and a firm smile attached to his lips. He gave a very slight nod to the stranger, but he was kinda in a hurry now. He had to drop off the bags into the kitchen and finish up the tour with Silas in about a half an hour, and there was still a lot left to cover for the lad. He also had to get dressed and set up the table and he should probably shower. Augh, why didn't he think to get all of this done before the new vine arrived? Would have saved him all the trouble.

Just as Kyle turned around in a smooth circle, Greyson walked up to the pair and started making conversation. Kyle got a sudden chill down his spine. She was very different than everyone else, in a way that Kyle liked, actually, but he couldn't put his figure on why he always felt off when she appeared. It was as if he was expecting to be ridiculed or something similar.

But nevertheless, he smiled his signature grin to Silas and Aden, waving his free hand for them to follow him. He didn't normally show off the kitchen, not on the first tour anyway, but this was an odd situation. Why not show him? Would be kinda interesting at least. It was a pretty nice kitchen after all. At least in undead standards.

Pell Laveau

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The lack of explanation and abundance of haste had method behind it. Mistakes, slip-ups, that sort of thing, simply could not be afforded. Not for witches. Not for those whose blood was a bounty when spilled. Pell of course realized she’d haphazardly dragged a helpless girl, capable of phasing, almost a half mile back to the academy. But there must have been some common understanding or at least bare curiosity. Because the stranger with the vivid hair didn’t break away, slip through. Pell had to give her credit where it was due.

Shuffling discord was heard as she dropped all the shopping bags onto the ivory walkway. Pell turned back to face the other witch head on, whose questions grew more hyperbolic and avid, hints of accusation laced in the words. Above, daylight still lingered, but only in dying bands of violet and dusky hue. Her parallel had a stare that yelled, “What the fuck is going on here!” Pell knew that feeling all too well. A dark silence passed between them. Gunmetal gaze sweeping, some red light flashing in her brain, Pell back stepped. The unease wouldn’t surface on her skin. She couldn’t blunder with a new girl potentially on the hook. But something was off. It was a smell. A sensation. Like a stench of quietus and carnage in the air. She tried not to wrinkle her nose and instead pulled back her lips to gleamingly smile. Apparently that wasn’t enough for the other young woman. How was Pell going to word this? How would she make it seem safe to an outsider? What could she offer besides food? And the worst part - who was watching? Or, what?

“Look,” the word was inhaled, low in tone, sincerity in the pitch, “I know. What you are. This,” she gestured to the looming building behind her, “Place is safe.” Still, puzzlement was scrawling itself all over the harlequin ingenue, tensing her muscles, a humored chuckle and gasp here and there attempting to make light of the bizarre circumstances. Pell took her wrists into her own hands, squeezing them lightly and keeping her voice quiet, “We are not a cult. We don’t have any weird practice aside from what we were naturally given. For you, it’s passing through. For me…” Gray jade eyes closed, Pell scraping her lower lip with a row of square teeth. In a neat score, all of the shopping bags began to hover busily and sort of bob toward the entrance of the school. “Pay attention,” she purred, “Very closely.” The grand double doors opened wide, granting access to a very eager grocery bundle. Behind those doors were no strings. No people. No rigs.

“We’re an academy. Safe place.” She turned on her heel, again. A trail of hazeled hair like pixie dust swayed behind her. “Obviously you could have made a break for it by now if you really wanted to, you know? I don’t blame you, if you decide to. Something just tells me that you won’t. You want to see what’s inside, and I really think you should.” Slowly Pell sauntered up the brief front stairs, pulling some tresses into her palms, “I can’t sit here and tell you everyone is great and you’ll make friends, we actually are super abundant in bitches, bad attitudes and mind control. All that shit, really. But you’ll have me.” A dash of self doubt came in the latter statement. But Pell liked to think it was well veiled. She gave a shrug and weakly dimpled, “I’m not a half bad guide. My name is Pell, by the way.” Standing in the vast doorway, she glanced at her iPhone in a lukewarm fashion, “If you like what you see, you can stay the night and hang around. See if it’s worth the research. If you want to lead your life the way you’ve been, even with the threat of being kidnapped and killed by men who put all their trust into holy water and blessed bullets, that’s always an option. It’s your life. Know this, though…” She peered back, “If they find you, you won’t know it until you’re bound and taken from your bed in the middle of the night. They will disable you, your powers, and any means of escape you think you might have. This shit isn't just in movies. Unfortunately it's real. I don’t want to scare you, I just want you to be safe. We’re a dying breed.”

Whether or not the girl chose to follow now was entirely up to her alone. Pell wouldn’t further the persuasion. She’d taken it as far as it needed to go. Pell chuckled grimly, “The more you know.” Pausing when she accidentally brushed Kyle, putting off his undead balance (which was bad enough without her fluky shoulder checks), Pell offered a revitalized grin. Obviously stepping out for a couple hours helped her to decompress. Softly she patted Kyle’s square shoulder, much different in form than the other. This was the way she regarded him if she ever decided to touch him. She knew touch was often associated with trauma for him, so rough or abrupt approaches may not do him well. The trace of warmth left on his shoulder would disappear in seconds. Slowly her chest rose, then fell, as she looked over Aden and Silas as well. She felt another sigh coming on. But, she choked it back. Silas’ aura was a bit less frantic and bewildered. Not quite at home, yet, but surely getting some bearing. “Hope the tour is going well, roomie.” She added with a nudge of her arm that didn’t even touch him. She was sure if she did, he might hastily step back and put on elbow pads or something before contact was made. Aden as per usual, had a sequence of thick smoke pooling in his mouth. His expression was dead and unamused, but Pell knew that in his head, there was mischief at work. She followed the smoke with her eyes. It absconded in an erotic fashion, forming a pithy curtain around his face.

“Potential fresh meat,” she mentioned to the trio of male inhabitants, “caught her at the cafe in public. Fuckin’ phasing through the table. Thought she might be a good addition to Ceremony.” Pell’s fingers curled, thumb extended as she pointed with it back at the girl whose mane mirrored the image of something one might see through a kaleidoscope. The hall they stood in was so wide. All throughout, the echoes of their conversation could be heard. Past supremes’ eyes followed the occupants from their unmoving position on the wall. Pell realized this may at first be very, very creepy. But hopefully, one of the boys would at least say hello and help erase some doubt.

“Anyway, grocery shopping is done,” she commented to Kyle as she sort of skipped to the staircase, eager to put on her Ceremony garb, “Gotta’ go change, maybe play dress up with the new girl.” During her giddy little caper, she passed Bambi’s room and heard a few muffled, scathing remarks which momentarily perplexed Pell. Something about shutting up and, “You’re not real.” Pell simply rolled her shoulders and furrowed her brow. The academy had seen stranger things than arguments or imaginary friends. She was done being the moral support crusader, at least until she got dressed and had dinner. As she scaled the foyer, she was happy to know that the AC had been turned off. Bobbin lace curtains and fixtures billowed at either end of the vestibule as they moved with the oncoming evening gale. It was almost holy and celestial this way. All trimmed and adorned in ivory finery. It would give a wonderful contrast to its residents, dressed as black as a Sahara night.

Still ajar, Pell’s room welcomed her home. The bag filled with Ceremony fashions beat her to the bed. It sat neatly there, begging her to put the pieces on already. There was no composure left in that moment. Pell eagerly peeled her daytime clothes off, not caring about the open door. Her arms shot toward the ceiling, candles that encircled the bed spaces bursting into glorious flame, “Ceremony in twenty minutes!” Her shout echoed throughout the entire academy and even put such a scare into the candles that their miniature infernos danced to the side with caution. Pell was quite the enthusiast of Ceremony. This was probably due to the everlasting supply of gourmet food and wine. But mostly the food. God, did she love the culinary divinity of that school.

The slope of her hips came to widen slightly at the waist, silhouette warmly complimented in the soft luminescence of the tiny tealights placed around both beds. Happily she flicked a pair of thigh highs out of sight. She’d simply go barefoot. Next came an A-cut maxi skirt, and then the crochet-inspired lace crop top which struck up an elegant divergence to her porcelain skin. The topper was a thick black choker, tied in a petite bow at the nape of her neck. Her fingers threaded themselves through her locks as she sort of paced around the room, thinking of anything else she could add. Charcoal and licorice herb filled her senses. A playful smirk met her reflection in the window, her own indication. Greyson was probably soaking that beautiful tawny skin of hers, taking her time, unfazed by time matters. Or she was nearby. With that, Pell remembered to roll on a faint lavender perfume and nonchalantly decided to call something out down the hallway, when Greyson appeared. Pell stammered for a moment, which was a rare occurrence. But Greyson’s beauty had a habit of doing that to her. Leaving her speechless, kind of in awe, looking for any way to get a grip on reality before completely dissolving into a blubbering puddle.

“How cute, you’ve brought home a pet.”

Typical. That was just like Greyson in her sort of not-interested-in-attendees-or-their-powers way. And it wasn’t even just guest listed girls with their colorful hair that kept at Pell’s heels like a puppy. It was everyone. Greyson had charm and social grace, but she didn’t need to exhibit it. People gravitated toward her and more often than not, she could care less. She was long term at the academy and maybe her passion and zeal had burnt out over time. Either way, Pell liked her just the way she was. Her stare crawled all over the dark-eyed girl. “Sounds like jealousy,” Pell countered in a humorous tone, grabbing Greyson’s hand and pressing a mild kiss to it. “Don’t worry, you won’t be replaced. Besides, this one might not make it through the night."

The tour that ensued wasn't the best tour that Silas had ever been on, but that was perfectly understandable. He'd been guided through the halls and gardens of castles, oral stories and histories from passionate experts intertwining into an almost physical history that could be seen in each towering rampart and every torch-lit hallway. He'd traipsed through battlefields on day trips, heard the tales of the losses and victories that sank into the soil giving this stretch of grass an identity. Robichaux felt like one of those places, steeped in dark secrets and histories that hung heavy in the air and imposed on each new face with the glowering portraits of people he didn't know and the even more secretive faces of those he had yet to meet. This was a place where things had and still happened apart- things entirely different from teenage quarrels and burgeoning magical talents. Perhaps, if he thought about it, he was a bit disappointed not to learn the name of whoever was so important as to have a portrait framed in the halls or any of the juicy little tidbits that brought interesting places like this to life. Then again, this wasn't a for fun tour for the curious mind- this was, with all due respect, a school tour and Kyle was pulling through brilliantly.

It took Silas a moment to get used to his speech, words short and syllables just off enough to confuse him when he first heard each carefully pieced together word. But any new person, Silas reasoned, was a bit of a learning curve, so he did just that- he learned. He listened carefully to every phrase that fell from Kyle's mouth, latching onto the words eagerly. Hands itched to jot down notes because right now he was getting the barest bones of the house from his determined tour guide, but also the most essential (he refrained partly because he knew that he'd remember and partly because he was self aware enough to know that flipping out a little notepad and matching pen from his pocket wasn't exactly "normal"). Aden chimed in every once in a while, his words adding background but dripping with a layer cynicism that left Silas anything but surprised.

They traipsed around the floors, some needing no introduction like the foyer that was magically just as deserted as when Silas had first arrived (perhaps, he thought, all of the students were hiding in their rooms? Or probably just out. Yes, that seemed far more likely). They stopped in one room, the dining hall, and what a room that was. It felt decadent, if he had to choose a word, despite being bereft of food it was a formal dining room with the same swirling energy that lingered in other parts of the house. It wasn't being surrounded by magic that did it- it felt like an atmosphere waiting, biding ones time until something, something that he had yet to learn about, happened.

Kyle was speaking in and Silas's focus was placed solely on the other boy, a picture of patience itself as he met Kyle's smile with his own as the other boy worked through the words to get his message across. Ah, there was that mysterious Ceremony again- Ms. Snow had mentioned it briefly on the ride over and he'd heard it thrown around since his arrival, mentioned but never explained. That must be what the room was waiting for, the event that gave it such an important feel in comparison to the others rooms he'd visited so far. The meal, what he assumed was the beginning of Ceremony, began at seven (only a short while away, he noted absently. Time really did fly when you were having fun or as close to fun as getting to know your new home could be) and the dress code was black. Not black tie, not gothic like a Halloween party, but black.

That was the moment where he lost Kyle's attention, the other boy focusing on something that Silas didn't quite understand. Was there something wrong in the room? Something funny from the way he was chuckling. Whatever it was, it bewitched the odd boy for a moment longer before he was hurriedly making his way out of the room with a confused Silas behind. Perhaps this was normal- yes, it probably was, Silas reasoned as he followed swiftly after Kyle. Just like curtains catching on fire, super model witches and warlocks, and mysterious "Ceremonies" with a dress code were normal here. He'd just have to put on a brave face and pretend that he thought it was normal as well until it was. As he moved along, he realized that he was feeling warm, warmer than he had before. It took him only a moment to realize that the quiet whir of the air-conditioning had been silenced. He plucked absently at his collar. Oh, dear.

They were moving through the entrance again when Kyle stopped once more. It was occupied now by Pell hefting large shopping bags, as friendly as she apparently ever was.

"Oh, yes, the tour's been very informative. Very good," He agreed and, really, it was a wonder he had yet to run out of enthusiasm. But any attention on him was lost when it was swiftly directed towards a girl Silas had not seen before (which, honestly, wasn't all that surprising). She was pretty in a way similar to Pell, petite in stature but apparently big in personality going by the brilliant rainbow colors dyed into her hair. Another indication would be the fact that she was apparently using magic in public, a societal no-no that even Silas understood (although there were quite a few additional reasons why he didn't use his particular talents in public that included "incredible trauma to all that surrounded him" and "a few visits to the family therapist for himself").

From there Pell left again, as she was apparently prone to do, with Kyle taking the grocery bags with ease and beckoning them to follow behind. Silas lingered for a moment, eyes darting to the new girl, who was in all reality just as lost as him, before offering her one of his patent crooked grins. Well, he might as well try to make her feel welcome.

"Well, welcome, I suppose. I, ah, really like your hair. The color's brilliant."

Or make her realize that he was socially awkward as quickly as possible, he thought as he hurried behind Kyle with a slight wave towards the stranded girl. Either way.

He followed towards the kitchen for a moment but just as his lips began to open with an offer to carry at least one of the shopping bags, Pell's voice rang throughout the house, the time echoing through the halls like the tolling of a grandfather clock.

Silas panicked just a bit (by that he meant a lot) because he had twenty minutes to make himself presentable again, twenty minutes to make himself ready for a first impression for an even he really didn't understand after traveling the entire day.

("First appearances are everything, Silas, " His Aunt's voice echoed in his mind. "You must look your best or they will assume the worst. That is the way of the world- now pass me that avocado.")

"I am so sorry," he blurted out, wringing his still-gloved hands together. " But I should probably go get ready for Ceremony. Thank you so much for the tour, Kyle. Really. I, um, I'll probably see you at the meal then? Thank you, again. Ah, thank you too, Aden." With that, he skittered away, walking as fast as propriety allowed without actually breaking into a jog or run.

He scurried up the stairs, only pure restraint keeping him from taking them two at a time. It never occurred to him that he had a roommate that had to get ready for Ceremony too. It never occurred to him to stop at that door since it was already open. It never occurred to him that Pell might not be alone. Which was exactly why he found himself in the doorway of his own room, frozen once more like a deer in the headlights. He rebooted a split second later, mortification painted on his face not because of what he was seeing but because he was seeing it- a private moment that involved nudity from his roommate and it was all such an invasion of her privacy. Oh, God, what if they thought he was some sort of- of- pervert.

The apology that followed was an extraordinary one. A wretched "I'm so sorry" and "please forgive me" slurred into a singular monosyllabic word as he twirled away from the entrance with a much clearer, "Take all the time you need. I'll just wait out here. Or somewhere else. It's all fine" paired with at least three more "sorry"s for good measure once he was safely unable to see them.