Legerman Academy

A mixed aura of anxiety and excitement, emotions that were certainly understandable, was visible among the groups of students arriving on the school grounds. Some displayed keen attitudes at this change in scenery, but many more were seen exhibiting looks of wariness and weariness as they tread across the cleanly-cut grass and cleanly-swept sidewalks. A middle-aged man stood alone in his office in the middle of campus, watching the students arrive from his window.

Mister Legerman was perhaps the least expected Primacy member to have created such a school. His appearance was attractive enough; orderly, pepper-colored hair framed pale blue eyes that contrasted tan skin. Broad shoulders, slightly-defined muscles, and a tall stature completed his appearance. Most would agree that Mr. Legerman’s appearance was likable, but most would also agree that his appearance was dislikable. His countenance switched between jolly and nervous, and he carried himself with an ambience that was bleak, bland, and bitter. He was someone who was secretive, stingy, and displayed little generosity. Despite this, Legerman managed to create for himself a wealthy industry, somehow charming his way into high positions of the Primacy. While this was enough of a surprise, Legerman’s stepping up to fund the first Primacy military academy and even offering to become the president of the school grounds was far more astounding.

With his generous donation, Legerman facilitated in the quick opening of the academy, teachers being chosen after careful background checks and tests of abilities and knowledge in their required fields. The location was chosen to be more rural for the safety of both students and faculty. The school seemed to be in some ways more of a safe haven than a military school meant to train students for their future careers in the Primacy.

As the students arrived on campus, teachers were stationed in various areas to direct them to any important destinations.

“Registration is in the main lobby of the administration building.”

“You are now ready to take classes on campus; here’s your dorm key and schedule.”

“The boys’ dorms are this way, young man. Those are the girls’ dorms and you know it.”

“Once finished unpacking, if you would like to meet in the student lounge there will be refreshments provided; it will also be a good place to get to know others on campus.”

And thus, Legerman Academy was now open, with changelings of various classes and some, various secrets, filing in.

What could possibly go wrong?

((This roleplay's OOC han be found here))

Ira stopped in the student lounge suddenly. The tour he had taken that morning on his first day at Legerman Academy had just finished, for the most part. Walking all morning relentlessly and rather quickly had tired him, although he found the campus to be exciting. His curiosity led him to want to explore it further, but he was patient and that would have to wait. For now, he'd just stop by on his break and see who else turned up. He wasn't going to approach anyone outright, that was his plan. But he figured he'd just observe for now. No need to rush things anyway.

Ira, with soft bleach-blonde hair, stood with his back against a wall. He crossed his arms which were covered in his leather jacket. He wore a black shirt underneath and tan khaki pants with boots. He hadn't been given his uniform yet, but he had been made aware that they would be issued that evening, once the students had been assigned dorms. Today was mainly for getting settled in. No classes, nothing like that. Ira's things were currently being held in a large room big enough for all of the students to fit their luggage in for a day. He was just going to wait until three o'clock, two hours from now, when the dorms were assigned. He had no idea how they did it or who they'd pair him with, but he was going to make the best of it either way.

Overlooking the lounge at the moment was a very tall woman who wore a very authoritative blue uniform. Her black hair was put up in a rather impressive bun and her white high-heeled boots clacked as she paced slowly about the front of the room, keeping a close eye on the lounge. Her icy stare intimidated Ira to no end and he ensured not to look at her just yet. He did not lean on the wall casually, rather stood at it, not to provoke her. She tapped her way past him, slowing down as she neared him and giving him a long side glance, before strolling past. This was Corrigan.

Addilyn Corrigan.

Ira was terrified of her. He noted in his thoughts, She looks like a Nazi mated with a drill Sargent!

Corrigan kept circling the room, eyeing anyone who came in. Her posture was upright and proper and her hands, covered in white gloves, were tidily held together behind her back. Her boots clacked against the ground step by step by step. Ira felt like she was watching him even when she wasn't physically looking at him. It seemed she was perfectly aware of every last thing around her, Ira would argue it was even on a molecular level. Although that might be a bit dramatic, he thought. Corrigan finally stopped and eyed the door as another student entered. This one female.

This girl was of average height and weight. She had a slim, curved body. Her hair was dark and naturally wavy and trailed down to the middle of her back. She had a normal skin tone which wasn't tan nor pale, with thick eyelashes and soft lips. Her eyes were a strange dark pink. Across her right eye, Ira noticed, was an enormous scar. It did not harm her eye, but the skin above and blow it was sliced by a long pale line. He felt a twinge of sorrow for her at this, knowing that whatever had happened to her must have been very painful. This was Delphine, who quickly came in and sat down in one of the seats at the lounge. She wore somewhat formal clothing for her first day. A dressy black shirt and pants, and an array of jewelry and makeup. She tapped her fingers impatiently on the arm of the chair as she looked up at the clock, waiting for three o'clock to arrive.

Corrigan, frowning, turned and went on with her pacing.

The student lounge was understandably chaotic. People - No, he reminded himself, changelings - of all shapes and sizes roamed about, speaking with each other and getting to know their future colleagues. In fact, the shapes of these people didn't seem to have a pattern at all, with the exception of a basic human body plan.

That was why they were changelings. They looked human, but they weren't even close.

It... was weird. Unsettling, even. But that didn't put off the merchant by any means. He considered himself above such judgment, for the most part. And besides, that sort of judgment could lose you customers.

The human Paul Otero had eagerly set up shop near Legerman Academy several years ago, and had managed to gain a good foothold in the place. His business fared well - he sold anything a changeling military academy may need, to teacher and student alike. Not many others had been able to take advantage of this unique niche, and thanks to his competitors' inaction, Paul was now faring far better than he ever would  have back home.

Which allowed him another unique opportunity: his place in the student lounge, working behind his own table, selling his own refreshments, spreading his own name and message to the new students, and securing himself another safe supply of customers for the coming school year. Ingenious.

He was predicting to receive a profit just from this little stunt - so far, people were buying up his cheap snacks and refreshments like, well, candy. It was a bit of a puzzle - since almost all other refreshments provided were completely free - but he found that he just had to sell what wasn't already provided by the academy. Food was almost out of the question on normal occasions - thanks to the Academy cafeteria - but today, he sold cupcakes, muffins, and name-brand bottles of soda, turning the tide just enough so that just as many people were buying from him as people who had free refreshments.

This was too good.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a blonde boy leaning on a wall, well away from the rest of the crowd. It was already easy to tell that he had a loner on his hands. Paul knew from experience that those kinds of people didn't spend much - maybe because of Paul's own overly-friendly personality? Well, whatever. He didn't need to waste time and energy to get one extra customer.

Paul playfully winked to the teacher, Corrigan, as she passed by the boy. He didn't particularly like her that much, but knowing her uptight personality, he knew it would be fun to get a rise out of her, if only a tiny one.

In the corner of the student lounge, there was a single changeling that did not appear to be human in the slightest sense of the word. Sitting down on the floor, curled up as though not wanting to be noticed, a fluffy ball of dense, silky brown fur silently watched the chaotic surroundings. To say that she looked like anything other than a gigantic, exotic creature would have been a massive understatement: She possessed a blunt snout with a black, rabbit-like nose and lips similar to a cat’s. Her ears were large and pointed, with little black tufts at the tips like a lynx. Her large, pale blue eyes had tiny black markings around them, and looked human structurally, but resembled a dog’s, the whites barely visible. Her hair was a gigantic mane that completely engulfed her back and shoulders, maintained only by a few stray black clips, and the length only ended at the base of her tapering, otter-like tail.

Wearing a silky red camisole patterned with flower-like rosettes, along with flowing black slacks cut to accommodate her tail and her proportionally shorter limbs, her squirrel-like hands clutched a seemingly-alien plant situated in a black ceramic pot. Six inches tall, in a medium of what appeared to be a mixture of bark and moss, the silvery-white roots, covered with round protrusions, bent like tendrils when she brushed against them with a claw-tipped finger. A spray of flytrap-like leaves emerged from the plant’s base, opened wide to reveal intensely-purple maws between piranha-like teeth. Vine-like stems sprouted like tentacles, tipped with fanged pitchers, yellow-green and red, mottled with black. All along the stems were blade-like leaves, two small disks emerging from the base of each larger one. Visibly, the small disk-leaves rotated, and whenever someone passed by, the larger leaves would collapse down, as though flinching away.

Simona, who went by the name of Honey to everyone who knew her, was content with guarding her prized possession from unknowing passerby. She was not antisocial or hateful of people, but there was little possibility of connecting with anyone in this chaos. The talking was too loud; she would probably have to yell in order to be heard by someone standing immediately next to her. Plus, she was not one to approach people, anyway: what would people do if they saw a gigantic furry creature walking up to them in a place where it was easy to lose focus? They might run, or worse, they might treat her like a dog and start petting her on the head, talking in that ridiculous voice used for babies, or elderly people, or other creatures that according to society do not understand normal conversation.

Honey wished to remain unnoticed until the commotion had died down; she would get to take the cart filled with plants in the luggage area to her room, where she had been specially permitted to keep them. She would arrange them so that the light would be perfect, give them water as an apology for not doing so as much during the trip, and make sure that the presentation was decent. Honey’s home was perpetually a well-tended jungle. There were many plants, from orchids to carnivores and tropical cacti. She collected all the beautiful specimens that she could find; she nurtured them into health, and would propagate more, whether it was by cuttings, or even by making new plants from tiny shards of leaves in jars of agar.

It was a surprise when someone walked up to her, “Hey, are you the owner of that cart full of plants in the luggage area?” Her ears twitched, and she looked up at the person who had addressed her, eyes questioning through the thick-framed blue glasses that she always wore. The stranger was probably a changeling, like everyone else, but he looked completely human. He seemed to be mixed-race, something between Chinese and African, although his hazel-green eyes looked European.

This stranger also wore no color, whatsoever, anywhere on his person. There was a black leather jacket, a black cotton shirt, black-looking jeans, pure black shoes, and even his socks were black. The only thing that remotely looked like color was the silver marks on his watch, and the piercings on his ears. One would think that meant he disliked the idea of talking to people, but instead, he wore a large, smirk-like grin on his face. Honey instinctively felt like she was about to be mocked for something, but for some reason, she had the feeling that she wasn’t the exclusively-chosen victim, if that were the case.

“Yes, I am. I guess I gave myself away too easily, though.” She said, tapping a finger on the plant pot for emphasis.

“You must be really good with plants, but if that were the case, I would have thought that the person responsible would look like a plant, too. They would have had vines and leaves for hair, and their skin would have been like tree bark.” He then chuckled, and Honey immediately knew that he was about to say something. “Nah, you’re more like a woodland creature.” He said, “You don’t smell like something that would be running around in the wilderness, though.”

Of course, a part of Honey’s powers made her give off an obvious scent. It was actually a sweet, minty smell, not too harsh on the nose, but regardless, clean and refreshing. She knew that everyone close by could detect it, but it was still bold for someone to outright say it. It did not seem like this person wanted to hurt her feelings, though. So far, he hadn’t resorted to baby-talk, or petting her on the head or worse, calling her a fur ball and teasing about fleas. Maybe because it went without saying that someone could be bullied over it, and this interaction seemed to merely be in jest.

“No, I suppose not. If I’m a woodland creature, though, what does that make you?” She asked, deciding to send the ball back into his park.

“It makes me the musician with a magical instrument.” He said, pulling an arm out from behind his back to reveal a strange, brilliant-looking flute. It seemed to be made out of some form of iridescent black stone, and ended with two pipes that seemed to have teeth and ram’s horns. The pipes were connected by finger-like bridges. Honey had little doubt that this flute had come from wherever the stranger had been born originally. Just like her, he had an alien object that wasn’t of the human world.

“Ah, I see. You must be very good, then.” She continued.

The stranger shook his head, “No, this flute sounds terrible, to be honest. It sounds like a dying humpback whale.” He held it closer to himself, “It belies my skill, but I couldn’t get rid of it, even if I wanted to.” He gestured at her plant, “Your relic is a lot cooler, it’s wild and crazy-looking, and it’s alive. Does it eat bugs, too?” Of course, someone would want to ask, given that it looked like something carnivorous.

Honey looked at it, “Yes, it eats bugs. No raw meat or cheese, though. People food disagrees with plants.”

“Do you eat bugs?”

Honey looked up at the stranger, tilting her head. How clever. “Do you attract and eat rats like some sort of warped version of the pied piper?” She asked in response, returning a barb of her own.

The stranger grinned even wider, amused, “No, but well played, stranger.”

He bent down so that he was at eye-level, and extended out a free hand, his other one clutching the flute, “I’m Scylla, what’s your name?”

Honey calmly settled her plant in her lap and reached out to shake his hand, “I’m Honey, nice to meet you, Mister Pied Piper.”

Groups of students could be seen flooding into the student lounge, causing a - what would be a good word?

"Bedlam," Riley muttered as she stepped into the lounge, luggage in tow. The term, she found, matched the scene best. Not only did it describe scenes of pandemonium, but was also the name of a mental institution, which - judging by the looks on some of these people's faces and their attire - she believed some would belong in. Then again, she was identified as part of the student body here, so would that not place her under the exact same title?

Her dark brown eyes studied others in the room, differentiating the people who acted miserable from those who were miserable in order to know who to avoid. While she could influence a change in emotion, it probably wouldn't be best to try anything like that on the first day. Let's save that for when it will be a convenience me rather than them. Riley found one of the few empty seats in the room and settled down with a glass of punch, noting the salesman that many students were foolishly ordering from instead of getting the free refreshments the school was offering. Of course they were willing to blow money on the first day.

Riley fiddled with a loose strand of her brown hair, which was partly pulled back for the occasion of the it being the first day at the academy. That was the only part of her attire that showed any attempt at “dressing up,” however. Clothing-wise, she sported a pair of blue flats, pale jeans, and a t-shirt that displayed the design of the book cover for The Great Gatsby. Layered over the shirt was her iconic blue jacket, which was present in every circumstance, save summer (but she would wear it then, too, if she could). This was the common attire of Riley, and the attire she preferred, as people seemed to be less threatened by others in a casual ensemble than they did those in formal.

The steady flow of students continued entering the lounge, Riley’s large eyes hypocritically studying each one. She noted some wannabe-goth talking with some fleabag that she assumed to be a student. There was a girl with pink eyes and a nasty scar. Even the teachers were odd in appearance - what was the woman doing, dressing like she belongs as the evil principle on some kids movie? And here she was, right in the middle of them all - Riley Hewitt. Changeling. Primacy student. Freak.

Riley looked down at her drink, feeling a smile tug at her lips. Freaks. That was the best way to describe all of them.

Corrigan grimaced at Paul as he winked at her. A scoff, a look of distaste formed on her as she passed him rudely. As the mass of students entered the lounge, she bolted to the front of the room. Her boots loudly stomping, clacking powerfully against the ground. She observed the craziness that was ensuing and the wild new students who were taking advantage of this free period. Immediately she raised a hand, gloved in white, and made a gesture. Suddenly, to Delphine's shock, the chair she was sitting in suddenly began to rise in the air. She was speechless, gasping as it rose and then suddenly fell back down with a loud boom.

Delphine, gasping, sat in shock as her chair landed back in its position. The boom seemed to quiet the crowd for a moment. Following that, Corrigan's loud authoritative voice broke the gathering. "That's quite enough from all of you!" she shouted. "This is your first day at the Academy, and so far you're all not off to a very good start! I suggest you keep the foolishness down to a minimum--no--nothing! Now be mature adults and act in a civil way in this building, or be subject to punishment!" she added. The room was silent and she began to scan the crowd. "Free periods are a privilege," she added, "You must all behave in this room."

"Hey now," said a coy voice from behind her. She didn't even have to look behind her. Her eyes immediately did a 360 as a man took his position at her side, putting a hand on her shoulder. She could see the crimson gem on the ring in the corner of her eye and soon looked to see a rather odd man next to her. He was a bit shorter than her, slim, and had naturally tan skin. He had big yellow eyes and wild brown hair under his giant purple hat. He had slightly pointed ears, and a strange tattoo on his left cheek. Ira recognized it as the universal symbol for the Form-type changelings. It was a man with him limbs elongated into noodle-like lines that twisted and formed a tree shape, with long twisting, curling branches. It was a purple-scarlet tattoo, and somewhat faded as to not draw attention away from his other facial features. The man wore a lot of purple. A huge, wide-brimmed hat with a few bird feathers wildly striking out from it. He wore a black turtleneck and a purple dress coat over it. He also wore a necklace with many crescent moons circling his neck. There were silver bracelets on both his wrists and he wore tall, black, stap-up boots.

"Winslow," Corrigan grumbled under he breath. "Don't get in my way."

"Oh come now, Corrigan," the man said. "Also may I remind you I prefer to be called Cassius?" he said, smiling. Cassius stepped past her and she angrily grabbed him by the shoulder.

"And what are you doing?" she asked, "I just got them in order."

Cassius turned to look at her and with a mischievous grin. "C'mon, it's their first day. You can drill them later, Corrigan," he added. "You have every day for the rest of the year to shout at them in class. Let's just let them get to know one another for now," he said. He looked back at the students, some of them whispering, some of them watching the two of them. "Besides, while we are a strict, military school, I don't see why we can't have some fun every once in a while," he laughed.

"I can," Corrigan said.

"Don't, don't, don't" Cassius said, rolling his eyes, but still keeping his smile. "Like I said, it's day one. This day should be meet-and-greet for them," he then shook her hand off his shoulder and stepped forward. "Carry on," he announced to the students. "Get to know one another, just don't get too crazy in here. Like Madame Corrigan said, free periods are a privilege," he said, just before turning on his heel and walking back towards the door, followed by the hot-footed Corrigan.

Ira finally moved forward and sat on one of the lounge chairs, across from Delphine. He wasn't planning to outright greet anyone yet, unless they greeted him first. But he still was going to put himself out there, almost like he had a social target on his face. He did want to make a friend or two, but only a friend or two. The thought of subjecting himself to large amounts of social conversation made his stomach ache. But finally he found the urge to talk to someone. He saw Delphine across from him and decided to start out with a friendly comment, "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," Delphine answered, moving some black hair from her face. "It just surprised me, is all."

In the back of the student lounge, standing next to the wall, was a student completely dressed in black. He wore a black trenchcoat, with a black tea shirt, black pants and black boots. The only thing colorful about this guy were his unnaturally purple eyes. The color was deep, and warm. The guy also seemed messy, as his shoulder length black hair was messy and his stubble was, well, a stubble. His name was Nero, although he preferred to be called Noxis. He stood in his favorite position: In the back, where he could see everything while still being mildly unnoticed. Of course, some students looked at him, thinking he was creepy or something because of his cold, seemingly emotionless gaze. This didn't bother him at all though, as he didn't come here to make loads of friends. He came here to learn how to use his power without painfully killing himself by accident. As he stood there, he inspected some of the people who caught his attention. His gaze almost immediately went to Corrigan, as she seemed important, and observant. Even though he hadn't even once caught her looking at him, he still felt like she was staring at him endlessly. This thought creeped him out a little. What if that was her power? Afterwards, his gaze went to the loner that Corrigan just walked past. He seemed nice. He wondered what his power would be like. Then again, he wondered about that with every changeling he's met. Then, as time passed, the speech from the teachers started, if you could call it that. He made sure to listen closely.

Thomas Lee strolled into the student lounge, a slight smile plastered on his face. His eyes darted around the room quickly, taking in the chaos of multiple teenagers occupying the same room. Compared to many of them, he wore rather bright colors - Straight fit dark blue jeans came to the top of his white Adidas sneakers. He wore a plain red t-shirt, and one may have been able to make out the brown string of a necklace, going around his neck and into the inside his shirt. One hand in his pocket, and one pulling a grey rolling suitcase, he traversed into the crowd, cautiously making a path towards the school-provided. He had noticed Paul, selling soda and other refreshments, but decided that the best option was to save money.

Taking a sip from his water, Thomas' eyes wandered around the room, more lazily considering he was now vaguely familiar with his surroundings. He decided to search for someone to socialize with - the first days of school were the best time to meet new people, and considering how many people were present, this was an excellent opportunity. He eventually noticed Riley, sitting down with a glass of punch, and an empty seat next to her. Casually, he strolled over there, and sat down next to her, taking another long sip from the glass of water he held. Eventually, he turned to her, and said, "This is quite the scene, huh?"

Riley jumped, nearly spilling her drink when it happened. The loud sound of a chair thudding against the floor, followed by wannabe-evil-teacher began yelling at the wannabe-goths. Then came the entrance of another teacher, this one being rather coy. Riley rolled her eyes. Were they playing good cop bad cop, or something? And what did this strict teacher expect from a bunch of teenagers at the prime age of rebellious attitudes?

At least they were now gone.

Things soon went back to normal, and the atmosphere of bedlam returned. It was as though the woman's speech effected nothing more than the loss of a few minutes free time and affected no one's attitudes. In fact, the room seemed more chipper since the teachers' leave. Perhaps because of the disappearance of the aura of omnipresence that radiated from the woman while she was in the room?

Closing her eyes, Riley took another sip of her punch, trying to drown out the ever-growing  sound of voices, all trying to speak over each other.  This is hard to do, though, when one recognizes that a voice is directed towards them. She opened her eyes and looked at the boy who was now sitting next to her.

Red shirt. Jeans. White sneakers. Dark brown hair. Thank goodness it wasn't a wannabe-goth (a wannagoth?) talking to her. Riley's eyes traveled up to meet the boy's face, examining him as she smiled and responded, "It really is. The term I find increasingly adequate for it is bedlam, but that's mostly due to it being a play of words - dry humor, I guess." Riley's eyes glanced at the crowd before looking back at the boy. "There are a lot of... Interesting characters here, though, hm?" Interesting was one way to put it. At least this guy didn't seem so "interesting." She lucked out. This being said, it would be best to try to continue the conversation with him so she can avoid talking to other people. She racked her mind for something to ensure the continuation of the conversation.

"Anyways... What are your feelings on starting classes tomorrow? Are you ready for them?"

A stereotypical question for people starting school, but it was the only one she could think of, at the time.

"You can't do that," Corrigan angrily muttered in the hall as more students strolled through the halls. She kept her voice down and took Cassius to a corner of the hall, as to keep children from hearing. "You can't just dismantle my orders right as they're being made like that, Cassius. That is unacceptable and I will not tolerate it," she said, her brow thickening darkly. It gave Cassius a slight chill for a moment, and intimidated him, but then he realized he wasn't a student and she technically couldn't do anything to him. So he relaxed.

"Look, I'm sorry," he replied, trying to be gentle, "but what I said back there still stands. You should let the teens be teens on their first day. They're all about to change so much. This Academy is going to change them. There's no denying that. So why not allow them one last day to enjoy who they are? We owe them that, and after all... We're here to lift the youth up, not tear it down." He shifted his feet awkwardly and took his hat off, scratching his head through his wild brown hair.

"I'm not hear to tear it down, Cassius," Corrigan said. "You know that. I am here to discipline, to teach order. This... this is chaos, you can't excuse that kind of behavior. It's not acceptable on this campus and it never will be. What would you do if Legerman walked into that lounge and saw that kind of nonsense?"

"Weeelllll...." Cassius trailed off, his voice growing smaller. Corrigan shot him a glance that seemed to silence his whole argument and he placed his hat back on. "Understood, Miss Corrigan," he added. "But, if I go back in there and shut them up, will you do me a favor?" he asked. She raised a brow to him and he added, "Be a little less... depressing." He cracked a cocky grin as he adjusted his hat and then turned, slyly. "Anywho, seeya." With that he danced back into the lounge, bursting through the doors. He pranced on through the room, greeting students that passed him and giving out a joyful, "Welcome to the Academy!" to each of them. He did try to quiet some of the groups that were acting particularly foolish, in respect for Corrigan, but he did not impose any sort of strictness over the room, which angered Corrigan as she passed the door.

Ira, who tried to advance his conversation with Delphine, went on. "So, I'm Ira," he said. He felt a bit awkward, and the girl was looking around the room with an extremely haughty glare, which he felt worried by.

"I'm Delphine," she said to him.

"Oh, hi," he said. "Uh, what's your power? If you don't mind me asking, that is..." he added, before interlacing his fingers somewhat anxiously in front of him. She simply eyed the room around her.

"I'm in the Form Class," was her simple answer. It didn't really answer his question, but he didn't want to pry any more. He just let it be and watched as a third unknown teacher entered the room. This one he hadn't seen before. This teacher was a tall and slim woman with a strange rubberish red suit over her body with many markings on the left arm. There were several holes for breathing room around her hips, back, and elbows. Her chest was exposed and she had a large diamond with an X in it tattooed on it. Her hair was long and red and she had bright amber eyes.

"Cassius," said the woman as she approached the man in purple.

"Oh hello there, Miss Easton," Cassius greeted with a smile. Easton gave her own smile and stopped next to him, observing the students in the room.

"Just reminding you that we need to be ready for the opening ceremony tomorrow morning. And the students need to be down in the dorms very soon. This year we will be arranging them based off Class to make things easier on the staff. No surveys, nothing like that. We've decided to let them choose who they will bunk with out of their Class. I would suggest you round these students up very soon and have them move that way so we can save some time. It is supposed to start at three, but we have some guidance officials down there who can take some early ones. Corrigan's husband is down there as we speak."

"Ah, alright," Cassius said. "Well, I'll take care of all that then. In a moment anyways. I'll let them socialize for a little longer, then I'll have them start moving. But in the end I think the real social hour will be tonight once everyone is in their dorms," he laughed. "Thanks for the reminder, Miss Easton."

After trading a few more half-insults, Scylla felt the conversation between himself and Honey growing dull; not that it was strange. It wasn’t really because he found her boring, but rather, because they had just met, and it was hard to maintain any sort of real discussion with people practically shouting across the room. He was glad, however, that he had decided not to tease her about her appearance too heavily; it was not hard to tell that she must have been harassed many times by people over her looks. It seemed that at least with this person, he wasn’t going to be rejected over a bit of teasing. Likewise, Honey seemed to be tired of sitting in the corner, as she slowly rose onto her feet, forcing Scylla to step back a bit.

He had thought that she was shorter, because her arms and legs were not as long as a regular human’s, but in reality, she was about as tall as any regular female. That mane of hair made her look even larger, like a bear or a lion. “Do you want to walk around for a bit?” She asked, raising one brow. “I’ve had my fill of sitting in the corner, and it just seems like more and more people are coming in. I feel like I’m going to suffocate if I sit still any longer.” Her ears lowered slightly, and she glanced around the room, “Are they ever going to let us out so we can get some breathing room? I mean, I like people…but I could do without the huge crowds.”

Scylla shrugged, “You know just about as much as I do. Hopefully they’ll let us go to our dorms soon and we can meet whoever our roommates are.” A glint came into his eye, “Hopefully someone who doesn’t mind one of the rooms turning into a jungle, and being occupied by a fluffy dryad.” He avoided the term ‘fur ball’ deliberately. It wasn’t creative, and although it was true that he was addressing that this changeling was covered with fur, he did not want her to think that he was trying to be degrading.

Honey’s mouth smirked slightly, and her tail waved over the ground once, “Hopefully in the boy’s dorms nobody will mind a guy who’s probably going to eliminate all the color schemes. Plants enhance the environment and make the air smell fresh and clean. If you make everything black, then nobody can see anything, dust will show on all the furniture like snow, and then it will simply be a perpetual winter indoors.” She said. It was hard not to pick at someone who seemingly wore no color at all; she might have thought that he was Goth or something, except that he didn’t meet any sort of stereotype. It looked more like he simply disliked color, and not for any other reason than finding color to be too bright for his taste.

“Snow? Perpetual winter? That sounds more like your own nightmare than something that would bother other people. Not that I would let the dust appear, though. I’m actually a very clean person; people tell me I’m obsessive about keeping things clean. I think it might be more difficult with you, since you probably don’t get that perfectly-straight mane just because it grows like that, right? You probably rip a bit of it out when you comb it. How hard is it to maintain that, anyway?”

Honey tilted her head, “Well, actually, my fur grows relatively straight and tangle-free. I just comb it and keep it out of my face with a few clips. If you mean that I might have a problem with shedding, though, it’s not as bad as people think. Everyone sheds, humans lose about five hairs each day, or up to ten if their hair is thicker. For me, I lose a bit more, but still, it isn’t so bad that all my clothes look like a cat was sitting on them. I just sweep every day, and then nobody would even realize that a person covered with fur was living there.”

Honey then shifted her hands so that the plant pot was cradled in one arm, and her free right hand went onto her hip, “Also, why are you asking me this stuff? Aren’t you worried that I’ll get mad at you?”

Scylla hid his free hand in his pocket, the other clutching his flute, “Well, I just figured, you look like you care about your appearance, even if other people don’t bother to notice. You picked nice clothes, and you look like you spent hours getting ready for today.”

Honey, unfazed by the compliment, calmly stared at him, before adding, “Well, what’s your excuse, then?”

Scylla shrugged, “I don’t have anything that isn’t black…”

“You don’t? Why not?”

“Can we…not talk about this?” He dodged the question. Even though he normally tried to keep conversations in the form of banter, he found this one was turning into something that seemed a little more serious than he previously thought.

“Oh, fine, whatever, you hate color, I get it.” Honey waved her hand dismissively. “This fluffy dryad might accidentally throw bleach on your clothes one day, though.”

Scylla paled, “You wouldn’t…” He said.

“Think now: do I really seem like someone who would do that to somebody? I’m just messing with you.”

Scylla, truthfully, couldn’t tell that Honey was joking so easily. She was good at keeping her tone deadpan, so that she sounded like she was serious. She did not even seem like a person who normally teased people or told jokes. Despite that, though, he got the sense that she seemed to be enjoying whatever the interaction between the two was qualified as. She probably got hit with a lot of insults in her life, and likely the kind of things people would say if they actually wanted to hurt her feelings out of sheer malice. Scylla was picking fun at her, there was no mistaking it, but she probably thought it was easy to deal with him, since he technically did this to everyone he met.

“Well, are you going to stand there? Let’s go talk to someone.” Honey said, before calmly walking past, groups of people parting around her, not sure what to make of the strange, bear-like changeling and her alien plant.

Paul Otero had been beginning to find that his job was wearing him down. You could only go so far with a fake smile and 75 cents per treat. As time went on, he felt less like a business owner and more like a child at a lemonade stand. It was time to close shop until later.

With a strained grin, he sent off his last customer. He quietly moved away from the table when nobody was looking, pocketing his cash and flashy signs into an inconspicuous backpack and leaving the rest of his food for people to take for free. He'd made enough money for today.

Which means that he had finally earned himself some free time.

Paul didn't stand out in the crowd at all: he was short and with a Hispanic complexion in an academy that was already south of the Fellowship's border. He could possibly pass himself off as another student were nobody paying attention. He slunk through the crowd, half-searching for the exit and half-searching for something else stimulating.

He finally seemed to find it in the form of a man holding an odd-looking flute and his strange pet squirrel-cat thing wearing a dress and carrying an equally strange potted plant. Before thinking any more on it, Paul found himself walking towards the duo with the intent of speaking with them. He got a closer look at the furry creature as he moved ever nearer.

Where'd he get that... What kind'a animal's that..? And why'd 'e dress it up?

Wait... 'S a changeling, isn't it? Yeh, that could've been bad for me.

His facial muscles screaming in protest, Paul broke out another charismatic smile and finally stopped near the two strangers, holding his backpack in his left hand limply. Time for introductions. Even though he somehow felt that things would turn south for him quickly, Paul wasn't concerned in the slightest. After all, he reminded himself, 's all to secure me my business. 'S as simple as that.

"New students, eh? How're ya enjoyin' that corner?" He jutted his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to the crowd behind him - many of whom had already spent money on him. He did his best to appear friendly and down-to-earth to the pair. "Just thought I'd ask, 'm not judgin'. Y'know, th' first day've the year at Legerman Academy could be pretty memorable... y'sure ya wanna spend it like this?"

Honey gave the stranger a look that would have immediately sent up a red flag for, ‘this person suspects something’. Despite this, however, she held her tongue, not wanting to be outright rude to the man, even though she was positive there was some sort of ulterior motive behind why he had approached them. She hated the idea of making enemies, but she was not above proving to people that it was dangerous to take her lightly. This person, whoever he was, had been watching them, and it was clear that he could see that they had been actively seeking out conversation. How else would he know that this day was turning out to be one that would probably be easily forgotten?

Deciding to go along with whatever this conversation might bring, Honey immediately removed any traces of suspicion from her face, as if it were simply her typical reaction to most strangers, and then shrugged. “Well, the most memorable thing I can say I’ve seen so far is that I’ve never been to a real orientation before. It’s actually just how I thought it would be, though. It’s crowded, loud, and chaotic, and meanwhile, I’m just worried that someone is going to go start playing with my venus flytraps in the luggage room and kill them.” There was no sense in hiding what her primary pastime was. It was already obvious enough with the mutant plant with her, and secondly, nothing settled her nerves more than talking about her favorite subject.

“Alright, so, no meat or cheese, and setting off too many traps at once can kill them? Am I following this correctly?” Scylla cut in, deciding that he would prove that he was still actually paying attention to everything that the Form-class changeling was saying.

Honey’s ear twitched, “So you were actually listening to that? Don’t try too hard; I could lecture for hours about plants. Everyone, without fail, will become annoyed at some point.” She said, looking at him. Their eyes met, and she knew that he was just as suspicious of the stranger as she was.

Turning to look at the man again, Honey smiled, not bothering to hide her sharp, pointed teeth. It was a natural expression, but for most people, a smile that didn’t have the typical sets of flat molars looked more like an unspoken threat, even if it might have been unintentional. “I’m Honey, and this is Scylla, pleased to meet you. What’s your name?” She extended a free hand out for him to shake, an action that was clearly meant to test this individual. It wasn’t open hostility, it was clear that she wasn’t actively trying to make him terrified, but it was obvious that there was a warning in what she was doing. If he had an ulterior motive, she would not fall for it so easily.

Paul was exceptional at reading other people. He noticed this tiny moment of hesitation from Honey, and her very subtle look of judgment. Even so, the look was so subtle that even Paul had to hesitate briefly in order to confirm what he had seen. Something so quick and so natural-looking was bound to produce such doubt. But even so, the salesman had all the information he needed.

Honey likely didn't trust him. She saw him as less as a random stranger and more as a stranger that had a motive behind his actions. He had to give her props: she wasn't at all wrong. As for her companion, Scylla... Much less could be said about him. Nevermind the fact that Paul had almost no time to judge him: Scylla was simply quieter and somehow less expressive than Honey, though his eagerness to jump back into the conversation would point to something along the lines of obliviousness. Time would tell if he was wrong.

There wasn't anything to do with this information at the moment other than to store it in his mind for later. It might just come in handy when the time comes.

All of this thought happened in the span of less than a second, but was just barely long enough to be noticable. Paul's grin, perpetually present, didn't shrink in the slightest. If he was lucky, it would help cover up his slip-up.

"'M name's Paul, 'n it's a pleasure to meet ya both!" Paul took Honey's hand in his own and shook it firmly, paying special attention to the changeling. He let go easily, not showing off any eagerness or weakness with his movement.

Sure, I've an ulterior motive - But wha's so wrong with that? I need th's money ta keep th' lights on. S' maybe this girl should get off m' case.

Scylla’s typical smirk was normally enough to indicate his naturally mischievous personality. In this case, watching the nearly-hidden battle of wits that was being concealed in small actions, his smile only grew wider, making him partly resemble a shark, or some other similarly menacing creature. It was not so much that he was oblivious to what was happening, but rather, that he enjoyed watching this too much to interfere. Although there was likely an ulterior motive behind Paul’s actions, Scylla had no real intention of directing any hostility at him, primarily because not all ulterior motives warranted such behavior. The one who was subtly punishing Paul for not outright saying what he wanted was Honey, who was probably so used to getting veiled smiles that she saw through any façade she was faced with, even ones that were practically flawless.

Honey, who had long since decided that she would rather hear the honest side of a person, would probably drop her defensive act the moment that Paul revealed whatever it was that he wanted from the pair. In fact, that seemed to be her intention, seeing as she was quick to business after the handshake was finished. “It’s nice to meet you too, Mr. Paul.” Honey said, closing her lips so that her smile was no longer terrifying in nature. “So, anyway, plants and crowds aside, can I ask what you do here?” Her ears pricked up to listen for an answer, “Are you a teacher or a member of the faculty? You don’t seem to be one of the students.”

It occurred to Scylla that Honey, though she was by no means ignorant, did seem to quickly grow tired of having conversations where it felt like people had something that they had to hide. The fact that she was turning her suspicions into words was proof of that. She wanted to find out why Paul was here, and things would probably get better the moment he told her why.

Scylla, deciding that now would be the moment to chime in, added a few words, “Well, we've seen the principal, and another teacher, and if you’re in the faculty, it’s nice to know that not everyone looks like a drill sergeant.”

Cassius eyed a clock in the hall just before stepping back into the lounge. He passed several students and finally made his way to where the majority of the crowd was. He fixed his hat somewhat and cleared his throat. "Alright students, it's nearly three o'clock. It's time for you to pick out your room mates, so please head down to the administrative buildings at this time. Keep in mind those of you who get there first will get first pick!" he said, prancing to the doors. Ira, seeing an escape from his awkward conversation with Delphine, immediately stood up and followed. Cassius kept talking on and on as he moved to the doors. "This year you'll be sorted according to power class! You'll be able to choose your room mate from that selection of people. Please hurry! We have many students to sort out."

Ira kept walking, exiting the building and keeping to the sidewalk outside until he reached the doors of the administrative building. Cassius had stepped through just ahead of him and held the door out for him to come through. Many other students elbowed in behind him, and Cassius gave them a glance. "Now, be orderly," he said as they piled through. Seeing Ira was well-behaved, he ushered him to the office in which the room mate selection took place. It was a large room filled with many circular tables and chairs arranged on them. On each table was a small sign indicating power classes. Ira sat down at the table with the sign that read "Elemental". There was a packet of papers and forms in front of him which he signed his name and other info on it which he had registered with. His student ID number, all of that extra stuff.

Deeper in the packet he found lists of students within his power class. He was the first to sit down and soon other students began moving into the room. Cassius stood by Ira's table and looked at those that sat down. "I wouldn't fill those forms out until more students arrive. You may want to see and speak to them for a moment or two before deciding to room with them, if you don't know them already. The rest of the crowd should be here soon. We may need more tables," he said, pointing to one of the office assistants who was still placing chairs on the ground.

Paul was going to answer before Cassius had so rudely interrupted, telling everyone to leave the area so that they might find their partners for the rest of the year. He sighed quietly, and twisted his body, letting several students pass by him.

His smile turned apologetic to Honey and Scylla, and he immediately skipped to the point. "Sorry, but I gotta go fer now. I actually provide th' Academy with th' stuff it needs to do it's stuff, if ya know what I mean. I've a shop about a quarter mile away from campus if yer interested! Erryone's welcome."

He then shrugged to Honey, letting on that he had known what information she had been trying to get from him. "Sorry?" Before they could reply, Paul stepped back into the rapidly shifting crowd, vanishing.

Noxis followed Cassius at a relaxed pace, as he didn't really care who his roommates would be, as long as they weren't too talkative. He was one of the first to arrive at the administrative building, to his surprise, and ended up sitting next to Ira, at the elemental table. He inspected the papers and forms, gave it a thought, and filled in what he could. All the information about himself. Afterwards, he sat back, still with a cold look on his face. He now wondered who to talk to. He looked to his right, and then to his left, where he saw Ira again. A quiet loner type, the perfect roommate. He decided to talk to him. "Uh... Hi, there, fellow student. Might I ask what you're like? I don't really know anyone here. My name is Noxis, by the way." He said, still with a blank expression. His voice was warm, and soft, making him sound nicer than he seemed.

Well, it had been rushed, but Honey had received her answer from Paul, and was satisfied to know that his hidden motive was nothing worse than trying to secure a customer base for his shop. The only thing she would have to regret, though, was that instead of any issues being smoothed over, the conversation had been abruptly ended by the announcements. She would probably find herself apologizing for it in the future, seeing as her plant-related hobbies would likely not be catered to by the school, and she would want to find a reasonable supplier. The main reason Honey was even permitted to do as she pleased with plants was because a part of her powers revolved around them. Of course, this also entailed that every so often a researcher would probably request to have her keep something, even if it was not anything particularly special in her eyes, solely for the purpose of ensuring that a specimen did not die while they were conducting their studies.

Honey, however, despite the fact that she neatly fit into two categories of power class, both Form and Other, would pre-dominantly be classified as a Form-type. She was probably going to become the odd one in whatever living arrangement was created; as it turned out, Form-class changelings that were exclusively in a non-human form still seemed somewhat uncommon. Her secondary classification would also mean that whoever she was with would have to be tolerant of their neighbor’s room looking more like a tropical forest. Honey inwardly hoped that whoever she was placed with, they were not going to call her a furball or hurl other, similarly mean insults. She really wasn’t a bad roommate to be stuck with; she was generally very quiet and kept to herself, and she was very avid about sweeping the floors and mopping to eliminate any traces of hair or dead plant leaves.

After a thoughtful pause, Honey turned to Scylla, “Well, I guess I’m going to go over to the Form-class table, then.” She said.

“Well, no surprise, there, but actually, I’m headed in the same direction.” Scylla said, tapping a finger on the side of his flute, “I’m considered to neatly fit within three separate classes, but even so, I’m better suited for the Form class than anything else.”

Honey tilted her head, “Well, I won’t ask too much. We’re probably going to have the same classes somewhere along the line. Let’s just hope we get good roommates.” She shrugged, “I’m not rushing, though. I’m fine with whatever kind of person I wind up with.”

Scylla shook his head, “Nah, let’s hurry up and go over there. You need to get roommates that aren’t going to mess with your things. If those plants matter as much to you as I think they do, then you want to make sure that the people you live with won’t go in and start messing with them.” He then started for the next building, “Let’s hurry up and get over there.” He yelled back, his pace speeding up, though it wasn’t enough to be qualified as running.

“Hey, wait for me, I’ve got a plant and I can’t break the pot. Ceramic is expensive stuff, you know…” Honey mused, before laughing quietly to herself at how this person she had just met would probably wind up being one of her closest friends at the academy, even though she had the distinct feeling that she would probably have to pull him out of trouble at some point.

Tucking her plant under her arm, she followed.

Thomas laughed at her comment about the other students being "interesting." She was certainly right, though one had to expect that from the students of a school that housed Changelings. "I'm not sure if I'm ready for my classes tomorrow, though I'm certainly curious as to how they will go." Thomas was about to continue speaking, but was interrupted by Cassius. He let out a small sigh, and together he and Riley left their seats and began to walk towards the administrative buildings. Thomas continued to talk during this short journey of sorts.

"I'm also rather excited. as to what other... abilities the students here have. It's something that is personal to all of us, for sure, but everyone will undoubtedly need to use their powers as some point. There are nearly endless possibilities, after all..." He trailed off, as if thinking, then started speaking once more. "I forgot my formalities! It's nice to meet you - I'm Thomas. What's your name?"

Riley nodded slightly in response to the boy's statement on his feelings about classes tomorrow. A common response from a common guy (or at least, common compared to most of these bedlamites). Meanwhile, her feelings for the upcoming days were a strange mixture of anxiety and... Anger? Probably; she really hated this school. Feelings ignited by the thought of classes were different, however; those could be better defined by excitement and curiosity. She knew she was going to do well, grade-wise (as most things in classes can be accomplished with proper organization and time management), and she knew there wouldn't be any need to worry about them.  Before she could voice her opinion on the subject, though, the teacher she recalled playing the "good cop" announced that it was time to go to the admissions building for a dorm mate. Wonderful.

As they began walking towards the admissions buildings, Riley listened as her new acquaintance voice his interest in the special abilities of other changelings before introducing himself as Thomas. Even his name was normal. She once again internally voiced her gratefulness for a normal (or as close as one can be considered "normal" here) person being the one she was stuck speaking with.

"'Nice to meet you, Thomas; my name's Riley," she responded with a slight smile. "And considering the point of this academy, it's really probable that everyone will have to use their special abilities for some sort of class. Speaking of which..." Riley's eyes scanned the crowd as they walked "...Considering that  roommates will be chosen based on classification, I wonder who will be in the sensory class?" She didn't really care if her new acquaintance knew what power class she was in. It wasn't like he knew her every weakness from that.

Hopefully she'll end up with someone who looks normal, or at least no wannagoths.

Delphine, stepping into the building, gave a disgusted look as she spotted two guys checking her out from across the room. Pathetic, she thought as she sat down at the Form table. She noticed two others sitting in the table with her and immediately felt her heart jump as she saw Honey's strange appearance next to her. However, she hadn't displayed much of her surprise and kept it cool. She attempted to be optimistic, the strange girl couldn't be that bad after all. "Hi," she said to both Honey and Scylla. "I'm Delphine," she said, taking a packet of papers in her hands.

Across the room Ira looked over at Noxis, and smiled. He wasn't sure who this odd stranger was, but he figured he'd get to know him here. "Hey, I'm Ira," he said. "Nice to meet you. I'm just kind of... well I don't know," he laughed. "It's my first year here, I'm not really sure what to expect." He twitched as he saw Corrigan walk through the doors of the room. She was followed by Miss Easton. He tried to fix his attention back on Noxis so he wouldn't get nervous, "My power is to emit and manipulate energy. Lots of different kinds. But mostly all I know how to do is produce electricity," he added. "But when I registered, the examiners told me I could probably create any kind of energy I wanted, if taught how. Anyways, what's your power?"

Noxis popped a slight smile, noticing how Ira was slightly awkward at conversations as well. Energy manipulation, huh? That's a rather interesting power. His smile disappeared, however, when Corrigan walked into the room. He still didn't really like how perceptive she seemed to be. "I'm a first year, too. My power is Gravity manipulation. As long as I concentrate, I can manipulate gravity in any way I like. However, this is only if I'm taught well. It's actually very dangerous, as one slight mistake could kill me." He became quiet for a second, realizing what he just said. "Anyways, would you, perhaps, like to be my roommate?" He smiled again. It was to make him seem more human, as his normal cold expression is a little too.... emotionless.

Thomas nodded at Riley's comment regarding the powers. Regardless of the fact that some Changelings tried to keep their abilities a rather private matter, Thomas believed that hiding away one's powers forever was an unrealistic task, and one that benefited almost nobody. Given the point of the school, it likely wouldn't be an issue for long. Thomas didn't really care if anyone knew what he was capable of due to this.

After Riley made her last statement, Thomas shrugged slightly and smiled. "I'm not sure," he responded, beginning to scan the crowd himself. "I'm in the elemental class myself, so I should probably head over to that table." As he began to walk away, Thomas raised his right hand in a wave, giving Riley a half-smile at the same time. "I'll see you around," He said. Thomas slowly approached the elemental class table, gazing quietly at Ira and Noxis conversing before taking a seat. I suppose they're the type of people Riley was referring to earlier... He thought, laughing quietly to himself. He was glad to have met her - In this school, it was good to have someone who was also relatively normal, or at least seemed the way. Thomas had to remind himself to not be too judgmental of the others, regardless of how they appeared. After all, the school was meant to be one of misfits. Thomas began to look through the packet of forms, waiting for an opportunity to speak with someone so he could find his roommate.

“Nice to meet you, my name’s Simona, but everyone calls me Honey.” Honey said, smiling, this time with her mouth closed so that she did not show her teeth. She inclined her head in the direction of the guy sitting across from her, “This is Scylla.” Scylla looked up and nodded in acknowledgement, but seemed to be heavily-engrossed in trying to finish all of the paperwork he had been given. He read through one page with visible speed, before signing his name on a line in cursive so fast that his hand became a blur. When he had finished, he set the page aside and looked up to properly greet Delphine.

“Okay, that page is done, now I can talk.” He said, before grinning sheepishly, “I know I probably don’t look the part, but I’m actually a little bit obsessive when it comes to filling things out. I can’t stand leaving pages half-blank. Well, anyway, like Honey said, I’m Scylla, pleased to meet you.” He formally introduced himself. One thing that could be noteworthy about how he greeted Delphine was that, despite the fact that most guys would agree that she was very beautiful, Scylla himself was actually oblivious. His embarrassment seemed to be due more to the fact that he was unable to stop himself from dropping what he was doing at the ideal moment.

Honey squinted at a line on her own stack of papers, before tapping her pencil on it, “I think a part of this doesn’t apply to me. I’m a permanent resident.” She then set it aside, before looking at Delphine, “Okay…so we’re supposed to interview people, but I’m not really that comfortable with asking people questions. I’m the owner of that cart full of plants in the luggage area. I have some sort of magical aura that makes things grow, so they usually let me keep whatever I want, as long as I also agree to help botanists and researchers every so often.” She brushed a lock of fur that had come out of her clips away from her face, “Generally, whatever room I get, it turns into a jungle, and a tiger may or may not jump out of the dense undergrowth and eat someone.”

Scylla waved a hand dismissively from where he had proceeded to multitask, working on his stack of papers while listening at the same time, “She’s not joking about that, it’s like she brought an entire exotic plant nursery to the academy with her.” He said, confirming Honey’s previous statement. “Those in mind, though, our dorms are built suite-style, so it’s not really going to interfere that much with anyone else. The real thing you want to watch out for is people whose habits might lead to a bug problem. I used to have a housekeeping job at an apartment complex. Whenever one person got bugs, every single residence in the whole building would have to get sprayed, otherwise the devils would run to the neighboring home, and then it would start all over again.”

Honey winced in sympathy, “Yeah, my mom told me to watch for that when I came here, actually.”

Scylla then proceeded to tap his pen on the page he was on, “Well, I don’t think the academy would let it get that far, but I guess there’s still a chance of people leaving messes everywhere and then expecting someone else to clean them up.” He smirked, eyes glinting, “Idle hands breed mischief; maintaining a home is something that everyone should know how to do.” He then chuckled ominously, before going back to his work. One could not tell if he was serious, or merely joking.

Honey looked concerned, “Something tells me that whoever rooms with you will probably learn housekeeping really fast, if they didn’t know how to do it already…”

She then slowly turned to Delphine, as though not wanting to know any more about what Scylla might be planning for whoever failed to properly do their chores. “So…anyway…” She began slowly, “…I don’t really have much else I can say about myself. I don’t actually mind who I’m rooming with. I can get along with most people; I’m really quiet, I sweep the floors on a daily basis, and I mop about three times every week. If you’re studying or don’t want to be bothered, I’ll try to keep out of your way.” She looked really uncomfortable, given the situation, although Honey did not appear to be someone who was normally shy or awkward, “You don’t have to choose me as a roommate, though. If you met some other people that you really got along with, it won’t hurt my feelings if you want to room with them.”

The sad part about Honey’s introduction was that while she had begun with something resembling confidence, it had become less sure as time went on. It had very little to deal with her capability to get along with people, so much as it was that most people would probably have trouble rooming with someone that looked like her. She had been hoping that when she got to the academy, there would be other changelings like her, with nonhuman appearances, where she could find her niche. It still seemed, though, that people like her were uncommon, and she might still face discrimination, even if she was surrounded by changelings. Honey had never hated her own face or appearance, but it still hurt when she thought about the concept that she might still be judged for it.