[OPEN] Evolutionary Gaps And How To Aggrivate Them

[Lilanee Kuleda]

24th Ophus, 2718
CAFETERIA | LUNCH BREAK

“Additionally, when fresh bones mend, divisions in the diploe and tables creates beveled fractures on the inner…ok. Right.” Lilanee tapped her quill rapidly on her cheek as she read through the large textbook laying open on the cafeteria table, free hand reaching for another berry from the cluster that were sitting delicately on a plate of food clearly gathered with an air of distraction. Hunched over the paperwork, the eighth form was in a world of her own, taking up a small end corner of a solitary table during the busy lunch period. She had books stacked on one side of her, notebook in the centre and study text to one side, whilst food was an afterthought right on the edge of the table. Her school satchel sat on the floor beside her seat, tucked neatly out of the way of any unsuspecting by passers.
​​
​​Shoving the berry in her mouth without looking up, the russet brunette wrote a note in her journal, muttering to herself as she went. From the tables around her, other students chattered and laughed. It was easy enough to pick out the popular kids from the not-so-popular ones, and the tiny little early forms from the upperclassmen. The place was not conducive for study, and yet the Hessean gave it a fair go, ignoring the noise and banter.
​​
​​ “When an area of bone pushes inwards, there is not total separation from the fresh bone, though this doesn’t occur in dry bone. It tends to fragment instead, making interpretation of archaeological remains more prone to obs—oh!” The young woman looked up from her reading as something hit the back of her head, followed by a peel of laughter. Turning around, Lilanee spotted a gaggle of her peers sitting at the table beyond her, a collection of both young men and women. The ring leader, an attractive Bastian with straight dark hair, giggled as she whispered to her followers. The teenager smiled.
​​
“Hello, can you stop please?” She said cheerfully, eliciting another spurt of snorting laughter from the group. The Bastian curled her lip, looking the redhead over.
​​
​​ “Did you mind? We’re having a private conversation.” The girl said with a flex of her field, causing Lilanee to glance at each of the group members with a chuckle.
​​
​​ “I don’t mind, though I would appreciate it if you kept to yourselves. I’m sure that your small minds might find it amusing to throw food like some primitive wick, but I can assure you it’s not that funny.” Turning back to her books, the freckled creature groaned internally.
​​
​​ Too far again.
​​
​​ “What did you call me?!” The Bastian girl all but shrieked, rising from her table, along with her entourage to approach Lilanee. The wide eyed girl pursed her lips, forcing herself to keep her big mouth shut, refusing to make her own situation worse. Her field drew closer, dampening to reduce the threat even as the others pressed down on her.
​​
​​ “Sorry I didn’t mean it like that. I just…well in modern society we’ve evolved to be far more clever than hurling berries at other people. There’s some amusement in it to be sure but—“ Pressing her lips together, the auburn haired teen glanced up as the other girl placed a hand on the text book, and casually pushed it onto the floor.
​​
​​ “That wasn’t really nec—hey! Don’t touch that!“ On the other side, her male companion snatched up her satchel, grinning and holding it up as Lilanee jumped from her seat. He laughed, throwing the bag across the room, unpeterbed by the sound of breaking from within. The Hessean frowned at him, before making her way across the cafeteria with red cheeks and quick steps, knowing full well it was now becoming a scene.
​​
​​ “Ooh, look. It appears your inkwell tipped over, that’s really a shame!” The Bastian said with a giggle, incanting a simple syllable for Push and wiggling one finger. The small bottle flipped onto its side, spreading black ink across the open pages of her notebook. Holding her satchel to her chest, Lilanee simply waited as they finished making their point known. Her blue gazed watched as Anthropology and Archaeology: Bone Taphonomic Alterations Vol 1. met it’s sister book, Vol 2., on the floor with a thump.
​​
​​ “I guess that mean’s you don’t want to join the Archaeological Club then?” The girl said with a smirk, absolutely unable to help herself, screaming internally at her mouth. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, or a particularly bad one. Realistically she should just wait it out in silence, but it was hard to stay quiet as she felt the sharp edges of the object in her bag through the thin leather. The brute had broken something inside, and Lilanee was pretty sure she knew what it was, but wouldn’t give the benefit of seeing her frustration.
​​
​​Peace. Calm. Intellegence over beating anyone to death with a chair.
​​
​​Her field twitched with frustration, though she continued to smile through the laughter, nodding as the comments about her heritage began. Stupid Hesseans, dumb as a box of rocks.
​​
​​She should have just gone to the crypts.
​​

[Ezre Vks]

Brunnhold Cafeteria

24th of Ophus, 2718

Winter carried in its chilled hands a distant sense of nostalgia for Ezre Vks. It was warmer here, so much warmer, and the days were long even in Ophus compared to the frozen north. No lights danced in the sea of stars, but while most of the student body was away for the break, the Hoxian could almost pretend he was back home, nestled in the Spondola Mountains in the spiritual city of Kzecka. Unfortunately, he had to eventually make his way to the cafeteria to eat, and today it seemed as though he'd arrived at the busiest time of the house. Brimming with other students who, like himself, were either too far from home or had no interest in returning before the new school year, voices rang off the thick glass windows spilling in so much golden light.

Out of uniform in dark layers of muted olives and greys and browns, soft boots were nearly silent beneath the din of youthful conversation and gossip. His hair was worn up in a simple topknot, neck kept warm by a wool scarf. Satchel heavy with several books he'd meant to return to the Crypts later, Ezre stood in line and simply listened, studying the faces of the passives serving the faculty in front of him, senses taking in the brush of fields around him.

Loud voices caught his attention at a table nearby, the boy tilting his head to glance at the sources of all the noise—a gaggle of young women obviously far too immature for the ages their facial structures promised them to be and their victim who he was sure he'd shared a few classes with over the years. They must've been the same form, but the Hoxian was not one to memorize names of those who spoke with such glaring need to express every minute detail of their inner lives. His delicate features didn't give away his disdain, however, but the young woman on the defensive was also far wittier than her childish opponents.

"Lunch, sir?" A small, meek voice piped up from the other side of the serving table, dragging Ezre's attention to the child passive. The menu was, in his opinion, so meat-focused and boring.

"Extra vegetables, please. Yes. Those. No thank you on the garmon." His voice was hardly any louder but weighted with a confidence the servant was not allowed to have in the presence of so many galdori. Once he'd assembled his meal, he turned to the sound of heavy books hitting the floor. Narrowing dark eyes at the noisy tsutekstupid lot, ashamed for their insecurities that they wore so blatantly in public view, Ezre stepped without introduction toward the table, setting his tray down and un-shouldering his worn leather satchel.

"Those who wish to prove their superior intelligence should deign to use words that are longer than just two syllables." The boy's tone was deadpan and serious, his dark eyes lightless pools without humor. A Deftung accent was noticeable, however, as if he preferred the old language to Estuan in defiance of his fluency. With a brief glance toward Lilanee—the Hessean, it seemed—Ezre leveled his completely calm gaze at the Bastian,

"If Anaxi like you are indeed far better than those from Hesse or any other Kingdom you desire, you should make good proof of your advanced academic progress on the Field of Practical Application instead of from within the illusory protection your immature social group pretends to provide."

He did not smile to imply his words were meant to be humorous nor was there an edge to his voice that could be described as accusatory and yet in his lack of emotion, his comment could almost be interpreted as incendiary.

He just wanted them to shut their heads and go away, being the loudest, most obnoxious creatures currently lending their body heat to the cafeteria. Ezre didn't sit, not yet, but he shifted on his feet as if he was about to do so, adding with the same smooth nonchalance,

"Otherwise, if you are incapable of doing that, as I am convinced you are, then you should return to your studies instead of mocking those who clearly have a better grasp of basic behavior than you do."

[Eirik Maste]

24th of Ophus, 2718

A terrible growling emanated from the stomach of Eirik Maste and yet for most of the day he was utterly determined to ignore it. He swept through the morning with but water to soothe his thirst, so damning to him was the idea of visiting the cafeteria in the peak times of its use. Though Brunnhold was quiet in the winter months, Eirik kept his mind busy. The mounting coursework his recent advancement had thrown at him served its purpose, and the boy thrived where many of his less intelligent classmates may have failed. However, the increased payload over his shoulder served to further hunch his posture. Though the Gioran only carried with him a single grimoire this day, the new and increased load on his frail frame certainly took its toll.

Maybe if you ate like a normal person... he admonished himself, a pale hand rising along his smooth features before sifting into his equally pale hair. Light pink irises found their way throughout the cafeteria and though the boy heard the beginnings of an altercation in the distance, he had other things to worry about. The Gioran took to the lunch line, waiting for the two souls ahead of him to receive their nourishment. He faced the passive kitchen aide, who turned her nose up at the boy before passing him a tray with assorted berries, a helping of steamed vegatables and slab of roasted chicken. In truth, the smell nauseated the Gioran, and while he desperately craved simply throwing the meal away... he had to force himself. When he exited the line, the altercation seemed to have escalated. A book had fallen to the floor in the interim and the boy galdor took his opportunity to have a proper gander at the lineup of souls.

What a beauty, he thought, his ghostly visage tinged with just a hint of color as his pink irises combed over the features of the most vocal of the bunch. Snark and sarcasm were one and the same, brandished as a weapon in the face of equally biting disregard. Then, the Bastian girl shouted out her retort to the redhead's (admittedly extended) quip. The Gioran had to bite his lip not to laugh aloud, and instead of sitting down to eat his food he was caught listening to the altercation with amusement and distress in equal measures.

The upperclassmen sure act like children, don't they? he mused, growing more and more aware that his career at Brunnhold had entirely too many years left in it if this was what he had to confront on a daily basis. A sigh escaped his lips, warring internally with the idea until a new challenger joined the fray. This one was very different in look from the girl (who he assumed to be Hessean or Anaxan in ancestry.) The Hoxian was nearly a head shorter than the Gioran and yet he suspected that he too was several years older than him. Eirik shifted in place, balancing his tray on top of his grimoire as his arms grew increasingly sore from the exertion of holding everything in his hands.

Soon enough, his frail limbs couldn't take it, and he inched towards the table the two were seated at. He, like the Hoxian, didn't ask if he could sit, but made sure to keep a proper distance from either of them. The Gioran sat at his own end, immediately placing his grimoire in front of the tray and dabbing at the pristine (for it was brand new!) surface of the book with his handkerchief. Then, the boy listened to the Hoxian speak, curious of his accent. Eirik listened and did not speak for a long moment, instead putting a mouthful of steamed carrot into his mouth. The food was soggy for his taste and quite devoid of flavor, but his aching stomach groaned with satisfaction as a bite fell through his throat.

"I'm sorry, but advanced vernacular is hardly proof of intelligence. I could regurgitate the Estuan dictionary but still fail to grasp even the basic points of logic and reason, no?" he said. The boy's words were soft and, indeed, if the two weren't paying attention they might not have been heard at all. Once he expressed the thought, he shifted towards his meal yet again, this time placing three berries on the tip of his tongue and mashing them against the roof of his mouth. The succulent fruit burst with the motion, spilling delicious juice onto the surface. A groan of pleasure escaped him, and he immediately looked up, hoping that no one heard the sound.

Then, the Gioran turned his attention towards the Bastian. Clearly, the words from both Hessian and Hoxian were getting to her. Inflamed by the barrage, she turned on her heel and towards the Gioran, who hadn't the mind to look up from his food. Instead, he flipped open his grimoire and began to review what he'd written in it the night before as the Bastian shouted out,

"Who invited the kid? Underclassmen shouldn't meddle in the affairs of their betters!" She stepped forward before uttering a second syllable in Monite, snapping the grimoire shut and clipping the Gioran's fingers in the process. Stinging pain coursed through his smallest digit and pink eyes narrowed with contempt as he looked up at the Bastian.

Bullies. Bullies everywhere. It never ends, does it?!

[Lilanee Kuleda]

24th Ophus, 2718
CAFETERIA | LUNCH BREAK

The carpal bones of the wrist are organised into a proximal row. Scaphoid, lunate, triquetral and pisiform. Trapezium, trapezoid, capitate and hamate.

She sounded off silently in her head, focusing on the structure of the galdori hand instead of the voices that berated her to keep her mouth in check, much the same way that another might count to ten. Ignoring the names sneered in her direction, Lilanee moved back to her seat, settling in and drawing a napkin from her plate of food.

Ancient galdori had an extra bone known as the piriquate, that historians theorise allowed them a wider range of movement in their hands, which could have meant more extensive hand-originated casting as opposed to vocal casting.

Blotting at the ink, the red head shot her eyes up with surprise as another approached her table, placing down his things as though he intended to sit. A Hoxian, one she knew was in her form. He was in some classes, though mostly the core academic subjects, but for the life of her Lilanee didn’t know his name. In fact, as far as the Hessean could remember, she’d never ever heard him speak before. She met his almost black gaze with her sky blue in the briefest of acknowledgements, before he looked away again. The Bastian girl turned her gaze on the other student with a glare, her eyes narrowing with annoyance.

“No one asked your opinion, moonface.” She said with a snap, though the waver in her field suggested that the girl was somewhat thrown by the aide being provided to the Hessean. As he continued to speak, the gentleman within the group smacked a hand down on the table, leaning over the other student with a flex of his rather average field.

“Is that a challenge then, is it?” He said with a grin, far more confident in his skills then he probably should be. Lilanee took a breath, readying herself to try and defuse the situation, cheeks turning slightly red as the attention of the cafeteria had begun to swing most clearly in their direction. Fantastic. This would get out, no doubt, and she would probably end up with a scry from her mother about the better places that she could have spent her winter break.

Incredulously another showed up at the table, this time taking a seat at the far end. He was a Gioran boy, younger than herself and the others by a handful of years. Lilanee barely heard his voice, but could just make out his mutterings were quite litrally a counter to the Hoxian. Was he friends with the Bastian and her group? By Ophurs golden Grace, this really was going to be the talk of the school break. There was definitely an audience now, and no professors in sight. To be fair most of them were probably enjoying time alone away from the pestilence of children. Wide eyed, she watched the girl spin on her heel, approaching the younger student and snapping his grimore shut with a harsh snap of Push, clearly her go to magical move. The Hessean stood from her chair with a frown.

“Hey, seriously it’s enough okay? You’ve had your fun, ha-ha, belittle the stupid flat lander. Let’s all just take a minute to think, I mean, it’s winter break! There’s got to be some social gathering in the Stacks somewhere? Isn’t that what people do? Perhaps there’s more fun to be had in the—” She caught the bigger Anaxi boy’s shoulder in her side with a sharp oooff of air, stumbling with a tangle of legs and wood to spill on the ground heavily. It wasn’t a direct hit, but it was clearly not an accident, Lilanee hissing a sound of pain as her elbow connected painfully with the polished floor.

"Ersehole." The group exploded with laughter again, delighted in the attention their ridiculous display was gathering. Suddenly the boy lunged, reaching for the Hoxian’s shirt as though he had plans to pull the shorter boy towards him.
​​

[Ezre Vks]

Brunnhold Cafeteria

24th of Ophus, 2718

The Hoxian blinked slowly, as unimpressed with the insult as he was with the eager boy attempting to rise to Ezre's understated challenge. Inclining his head at the brush of yet another field, his delicate lips curled into the most emotionless mockery of a smirk,

"You prove your own point, child." He said in response to the long-winded counter about choice of vocabulary versus actual intelligence, the outpouring of the younger Gioran's syllables becoming little more than obvious empirical evidence of his own conclusions in their uselessness. The shift of the mona shifted his attention, Ezre's own field coiling tightly about him like a serpent in response, tattooed fingers sliding from his tray and tensing against the table.

The Hessean was embarrassed and wearing her worry across her face and in her voice, adding fuel to the fire of the students who were clearly too uncivilized to be invited back into their own homes for winter break.

It was then that things turned physical. The Hoxian's expression darkened, delicate lips tightening into a thin line when Lilanee was knocked over. Exhaling slowly through his nose, he made to stand, dark eyes darting at the motion of the bully who was reaching for the olive-dyed cotton of his thick winter shirt—

Dice RollsShow

SidekickBOTToday at 9:40 PM
Muse: 4d6 = 2, 1, 4, 3

2 is a weak defense by Ezre.
1 is a failure of the bully to pull Ezre to his feet.
4 is the shove of Ezre's hand into the bully's stomach.
3 is the success of his Push spell to knock him over.

One inked hand raised, palm open, fingers tight together, and swept gently outward in an attempt to deflect the boy's reach. Ezre didn't particularly want a demerit, nor did he actually want to hurt another stranger—the physical arts he'd studied in his homeland focused on self-defense instead of offense. The block was too soft and the other boy managed to curl fingers into the Hoxian's shoulder, grinning at him as he attempted to pull him to his feet.

Ezre stayed put, however, gathering his field even tighter. Despite being smaller, lighter framed, he was stalwart in his stillness, dark eyes narrowing as the Anaxi growled at him. Standing quickly of his own volition, the Hoxian raised his other hand and shoved the heel of it—hard—into the smirking red-head's gut while whispering the same single syllable of Monite that the ringleader young woman seemed to favor, Push. It was—or would be in hindsight—harder than he intended, but it was sufficient to knock the other boy backward, staggering and gasping. The spell was just forceful enough to knock the bully right onto his well-deserving erse.

"I do not think any of us actually wants to spend the rest of Winter Break in some form of detention, though perhaps that is the best place for you. Like the Zoological Gardens in Vienda—or so I hear. I have never been." Ezre announced in a far more authoritative tone than his well-known quiet demeanor would otherwise seem capable of, the lilt of Deftung accent almost hinting at humor. Tattooed fingers reached up to smooth over his shirt while the shadowy twin pools of his eyes washed over the four galdori who seemed so bent on proving themselves better when all it did was reveal the ugliness of their weak natures,

"It is my recommendation that you take your insecurities to younger students who can better be afraid of your pathetic attempts at posturing." The Hoxian glanced down at the boy who was about to scramble up from the floor, deadpan expression serious,

"I will finish my lunch first, if you want to wait for me on the Lawn."

With that, he turned a cold shoulder to the gaggle of bullies and chose instead to offer a hand to Lilanee to help her up. There was no smile or expression of comfort, but he wasn't mocking her, either.

[Eirik Maste]

24th of Ophus, 2718

That was the point, idiot, the Gioran thought as he listened to the impassive remark of the Hoxian. Of course, perhaps Eirik's attempts at sarcasm were disguised by his quiet voice, or he simply didn't comprehend the concept. Speaking to people was an awkward mess of things, and he shrugged his shoulders and looked back down to his meal as the field from the lady-bully in front of him began to wax. Then, he felt the sting of his finger. Anger welled within the Gioran child, and his field began to wax, so tempted he was to pull at the mona and lash out. However, Eirik Maste wasn't inclined to violence and all of his life he'd been bullied as it was. Lashing out merely made it worse, he found, and so he didn't so much as acknowledge the woman. Instead, he pulled his grimoire off of the table, setting it next to him on the long bench.

The presence that surrounded the Hoxian pulled back towards him, coiling about his form like a serpent poised to strike. Eirik didn't notice it immediately when Lilanee was knocked over, turned within himself at the ever-present assaults on him. He pined for peace and tranquility, but it never arrived. Instead, Eirik's ears perked up and he raised his gaze to find the Hoxian's fluid movements interrupted. Eirik was the victim of physical violence again and again, but he retreated or lashed out with Push when the need arose. Eirik felt the familiar shift in the field, sensing the syllable of Monite as he heard it as the Anaxan boy was pushed back.

Eirik rose from his place, looking to and fro to find the scuffle ended as quickly as it had begun. The Gioran may not realize it, but his breathing accelerated. His chest heaved with each motion, his fists clenched as his unnaturally wide pink eyes surveyed the six galdori that surrounded him. Though Eirik was the tallest among them, he felt small and excluded, the youngest and freshest face among the half dozen others. A hand rose up to his chest and a heavy cough escaped his lips. He moved back towards his seat on the bench, his other hand clenched into a fist. The two galdori closest to him, the ones that didn't carry their words into offensive violence might feel the twitch in his field, the rage building deep within his soul. He was sorely tempted, and he even parted his lips to speak the spell that desperately craved release from his tongue before he thought better of himself.

Casting right now... could be disastrous, he reasoned, knowing himself well enough that he wouldn't settle for simple syllables.Forget demerits... that'd be grounds for much more... he followed the train of thought to its reasonable conclusion. Eirik hated his inability to act... he despised the shell-shocked status of his facial expression. Eirik Maste wore his eyes wide, his lips parted. The flood gates were wide, and the anger wasn't quick to dissipate.

"Are you okay?" he asked the Hessian student, not rising from his place on the bench. He, like the Hoxian, fully intended to finish his meal, but he turned to the elder boy,

"I'll join you on the Lawn," he offered. Eirik Maste didn't want to fight, but at the behest of courage demonstrated by the Hoxian, he too was bolstered. The idea of simply taking the punishment doled out without reason felt merciful, undeserved and he'd happily take out his anger if it meant the loathing would leave him, as well.

With the offer made, Eirik did not persist in eye contact, lowering himself to his meal and tearing into the soggy flesh of baby carrots. His body craved the nourishment, but the food tasted like ash in his mouth. All enjoyment of the situation was derailed and Eirik Maste moved next to the lean strips of chicken, deftly working the metal body of his fork before cleansing his lips of the seasoning that clung to them afterwards.

[Lilanee Kuleda]

24th Ophus, 2718
CAFETERIA | LUNCH BREAK

The sound of breath being forcefully shoved from the lungs within sounded with a loud oof as the brutish boy fell back, almost making a crescent shape if he were to move in slow motion, before hitting the ground with his rear. His pale face turned red as he gasped to get his breath back, dark brown hair a mess over his brow and gold eyes wide. The Bastian girl stared in shock, before looking back at the shorter Hoxian, then back to her gaggle of followers.

“That…I…you…” She fumbled for words, reaching to help the other boy up before glaring at the three students.

“Oh it’s so clocking on. The Lawn. We’ll be there.” The brunette growled, her field a soaring bubble of bravado as her male counterpart shook his head, wheezing to find words of decline, but unheard over her own overconfidence. The woesome foursome took themselves out, almost carrying the boy, whilst the cafeteria bustled with excitement. A duel! People were already shoveling in food so they could go and find a good place to spectate, whilst others still began to make quiet wagers between who would win.

Lilanee rubbed her elbow, looking up at the curiously tattooed fingers that reached down to help her up, glancing into the seemingly unperturbed face of the Hoxian boy. Redfaced under her freckled visage, the Hessean reached for his hand and allowed him to help her to stand, looking at the Gioran with a wry smile as she smoothed out the thick felted brown fabric of her Anaxi proper day dress.

“Yes, fine thank you. Just a minor bruise to the lateral epicondyle probably, nothing to worry about.” Moving to collect her books and placing them back on the table, the auburn haired girl sighed at her journal and closed it. The pages were effectively ruined, but perhaps there might be some sort of spell one of the professors would know to clean it up so she didn’t loose all her work. Slipping into her chair, Lilanee reached down to open her satchel, carefully taking out two pieces of a rather unremarkable looking glazed pot that clearly should have been one piece.

“Clocking erseholes.” She muttered, running her fingers along one broken edge and sighing. Looking up at the two boys, the Hessean took a deep breath and smiled widely, presenting a hand to shake for each of them should they take it.

“Lilanee Kulenda, pronounced Lee-lah-nee. Eighth form Physical enthusiast and founder of the Brunnholdian Amateur Archaeologists Club. We meet once a season in the history wing’s lecture room on the fifteenth hour.” Sitting up straighter, she looked at the Hoxian first with a clear glimmer in her eye.

“That was rather impressive, though I don’t know if it was the best course of action to be honest. Marissa and Janse will now be forever a proverbial thorn in your side, one which refuses to stop digging till it hits an artery or a nerve. Did you know that the sternum is prone to fracture depending on the pressure applied—five to eight percent of people who receive trauma there will get a fracture—however it’s also the most effective place to deter physical assault. You of course, seem to know that Mister…?” Turning to face the younger Gioran boy, the Hessean shook a finger at him.

“Now now, Mister…uh…?” She hesitated for a name, before continuing her conversation.

“The Lawn is just an excuse for them to show off, though they have nothing to show honestly. Are we really going to sink to their level and take this entire shenanigans out on the Lawn where the remaining faculty might need to get involved? We could just call it a day and enjoy our food.” Thumbing the broken pot again, Lilanee held it up for both of the students to see.

“Early BT galdori pottery, from the west of Bastia near the coast. If you look carefully, you can see where they used spell work to shape the clay, rather than any physical handiwork. It’s rather rudimentary, yet clearly advanced for its age. There’s a possibility this pot was created in or around the time of the Bashelm Tome, though that is of course only speculation. I was given it for research purposes, and I really truly should have just gone straight to the Crypts but gods forbid I thought I would take a detour this day. Eat with the living for a change, so to speak. What a pointless endevour, by the Circle Professor Darius is going to be absolutely rope-able!” Pausing for a breath, the Hessean lowered the artifact and winced at both of the teenagers, tucking back a loose curl of errant hair.

“Sorry. I know. I talk. It’s part of the problem now waiting for us on the Lawn. Can’t keep my big mouth shut. Father says its from my mothers side of the family, but I have it on good authority he is quite the waffler himself. Anaxi’s always tend to avoid their own flaws though it seems. What possessed either of you to get involved is beyond me, but I am grateful. I doubt there would have been any real harm, but then who knows. Marissa really has it out for me lately, and does so very much enjoy the attention she gets I am sure of it.” Putting the pot pieces away carefully and withdrawing a pair of wool gloves, Lilanee tugged them on then laced her fingers together and placed her hands on the table with another smile, her field warm and encompassing with an air of curiosity that seemed insatiable.

“So, to the Lawns when you are both ready. Three against two perhaps, lest we keep it between eighth forms? I will need to collect my coat, and jacket, and scarf on the way out. It's clocking cold out!” She clearly intended not to leave either of them to face the Bastian and her Anaxi counterpart alone.

[Ezre Vks]

Brunnhold Cafeteria

24th of Ophus, 2718

The Hoxian nodded when Lilanee said she was fine, stepping back to give her room and letting his dark eyes stray to the handful of bullies. He did not allow himself the sense of satisfaction that may have swelled, invisible and warm, in his own narrow chest at the red-faced kenser who needed help to stand. No. That was simply not a necessary emotion, tempting as it was, and so he exhaled slowly through delicate lips and moved to hover back at his seat in front of his tray and his satchel.

He could feel the buzz that had rippled through the cafeteria, Ezre never one to put on a show and usually unconcerned about dueling. He had nothing to prove, cared little for the personal honor of anyone but himself (or others' lack thereof in this case), and yet perhaps even he needed to blow off steam sometimes. This was a perfect excuse to knock down some nails that stood too high from the beams of society, a little bit of conversation on the Lawn. Besides, it was so bitter cold at that the quiet, temple-raised Hoxian already knew that he would have an advantage—

—oh—and so would the Gioran. Or, he should have, anyway, considering the landscape of Gior.

Ezre admittedly didn't know the boy, but he flashed him a sidelong glance and the flicker of agreement in his expression (not a smile, but something welcoming none the less) when Eirik offered to join the Hoxian on the Field.

The Hessean was introducing herself and the dark-haired boy turned his attention back to her, listening to the way she drew out the pronunciation of her name as if people got it wrong all the time. By the stillness of Bash, if she only knew how the Anaxi people had butchered his old family name, how the beautiful Deftung syllables of his full name had been twisted and marred in the two years he'd been a student. He smiled—it was brief, fleeting, but it was there.

Opening his mouth to return the introduction, he shut it again. Lilanee was still talking, and here he was still standing, tattooed fingertips restless on the surface of the table, his food cold by now. Finally. He had a moment,

"Ez'ray V'hcks." The Hoxian offered simply, speaking slow enough the first time, lingering on the honorable harsh syllable of his surname, teeth showing in emphasis of the harsh sounds, "I have received rudimentary training in self-defense, though I admittedly wasn't out to fracture his sternum. Not this time, anyway."

Ezre paused for the Gioran's introduction before sitting, finally. He bowed his head for a moment in silent prayer, in thanks, before beginning to eat. Utensils weren't unknown in his homeland, but much like Mugroba, eating with one's hands food that was easy to eat in such a way was common. Heavy, metal tableware seemed so clumsy, but at least the boy made it look simple enough. He also made it obvious that he was in no hurry to rush out to the Field of Practical Application in order to duel.

He would eat his lunch, cold though it had grown, and everyone else could wait.

"Dru,No, I will keep my agreement with the immature students for a duel so long as he is not suffering from hypothermia by the time I make my way outside. Showing them skill and honor is not sinking to their level, Lilanee. Walking away would be proving ourselves just as cowardly. Besides," The dark-haired boy paused to caprice the fields of the two students he sat with, a satisfied expression settling on his delicate features, "we have quite a variety of spellwork possible between the three of us and I would venture to guess their relationship with the mona is just as childish as their mindsets."

Eyes like pools of shadows wandered over the pottery that had been broken, glancing up at the Hessean's face with the hint of a smirk at the mention of the Crypts, "The dead do not miss pottery, and it's not as though there isn't more in the ground somewhere." He ate at his own pace, any further banter becoming background noise the boy chose not to respond to until he was finished with his meal. Despite being slightly unappetizing when no longer comforting and hot, Ezre did not waste what he was given.

"Anaxi are loud and obnoxious." He said quietly, aware that he was speaking to someone who, thus far in his opinion, was certainly no less full of their own words, the irony of his reasons for intervening between Lilanee and the bullies not lost in his own mind considering how he had not won the quiet he'd hoped for, "I stepped in because they were filling the cafeteria with their useless noise. It is incredibly unnecessary to treat our peers and equals such as yourself with such blatant disrespect. We are all part of the same Cycle and deserve equal kindness."

Once finished eating, Ezre would stand and dispose of his tray instead of expecting a passive to clear his place as was acceptable. He would then gather his things and wait on the other two, tugging up the hood to his wool cloak and donning a pair of fingerless gloves. He had no other extra layers despite the below freezing temperatures outside,

"I think we will have the advantage of surprise."

[Eirik Maste]

24th of Ophus, 2718

This Lee-lah-nee sure loves the sound of her own voice, the Gior boy noted for the second time as he listened to her go on and on about, first about the 'Amateur Archaeologists Club' and thereafter about the Hoxian boy's actions and the utterly unnecessary review about trauma to the sternum. Confusion arose within the albino child, not knowing where to listen and what to ignore and so... he opted for more of the latter. Pieces of chicken fell between his lips, by no means pressed for time in a manner similar to the Hoxian boy who seemed so confident in the midst of impending violence. Of course, he'd already proven himself capable of withstanding said pressure, even with multiple opponents. A tinge of jealousy colored Eirik's cheeks, for the child was far too frail to have any hopes of possessing such prowess. No, instead he was plagued with bouts of stress-sickness, coughing fits and sleeplessness that poured a haze over his actions in the daylight.

However, the food did do its job, and Eirik Maste felt his sickly disposition give way to sudden awareness. He glanced between Lilanee and, as he introduced himself, Ezre. Taking his cue, Eirik's pale pink irises clung to the pleasing features of the Hessian girl as he answered,

"My name's Eirik Maste. I hope they intend to show off," he began. At last, a curve began to stretch his features at the thought of those bullies being given a taste of their own medicine. Ezre was certainly capable, and the Gioran boy allowed his own field to wax. He sensed Ezre's subtle probing, cast to and fro between both of the foreign fields and so... the Gioran did the same. The interaction between the three fields was palpable, and the boy ruminated on the two before him.

It was standard for elder students to partake in multiple disciplines of magic, and he found it peculiar, but unsurprising as he felt four distinct vestiges of mona cling to the fields that surrounded him. The gentle, pleasant breath of Living, the sensual sway of Perceptive. Physical mona pushed back against his field, informing him of its presence before the esoteric and aloof particles of Clairvoyance made themselves apparent. Eirik Maste wasn't privy to any other forms but Static, but introspective analysis caught the metallic twang of electrical manipulation within his own field.

"A variety, indeed. Simple Pushes and shoddy spellwork are all I expect from them," he began before looking onward to Lilanee. In his voice grew a wider range of confidence, and the volume and tone shifted accordingly. Maybe these two are capable of listening? he wondered. Perhaps he even hoped, willing and even eager to strike an association with elder students. It was proven to him beyond a doubt that the children of his year (and even the ones in theirs) were beyond redemption, beyond association. But loneliness only served to aggravate the scars that settled deep within the psyche.

"Ezre is right. I'm tired of letting these sorts of people just walk over me - and anyone else- like we don't bleed as they do," he completed, his fingers clenched into fists underneath the table as he left the tray ignored, the dregs of his meal ill fit to consumption. The wide eyes from before were gone, and the breathing of Eirik Maste was ragged. Fear and resolve melded into one, and the Gioran was adamant to let the latter reign over the former.

I'm sick of this... he mused internally, looking to his wrists and along the backs of his hands at the knicks and scratches that'd turned into scars from repeated re-opening. Wounds that were not self-inflicted tore at his pale flesh, again and again, the boy hoping that with this beginning - him standing up for himself - that he might bid good riddance to it all. A futile hope, certainly, but perhaps Lilanee could be liberated of it in his stead. The Gioran listened, agreement written on his features as the Hoxian spoke of how unnecessary it was to treat others with blatant disrespect. Tears stung at the edges of Eirik's eyes, though he did his utmost to relax. A breath pulled into his lungs and then, he too stood to join the elder student. He buttoned up his coat, smoothing out the thick padded pants he'd brought to fight the chill. He layered up slightly more than other Giorans might have, but nevertheless, he kept to as minimalistic as he could muster comfortably.

"You won't sideline me, Lilanee. I can take care of myself," he insisted. At the very thought of it, he flexed his field, intent on driving home the point that he was both willing and capable of participating in what was to come. The trio left once all of them affirmed their commitment to the cause, with Eirik Maste keeping his step slower to keep pace with the much shorter galdori. He'd keep behind them, a hand raised to brush the long, white hair of his fringe against the rest of his equally pale features. Once they began their trek, the youngest galdor pulled back his field, bringing it tight around the breadth of his form as he uttered sweet conveyances in Monite, a form of prayer to the Gods.

Conquest, he mused, ruminating on the noble uses of magic and for once, satisfied that he was using his talents for a good reason.

[Lilanee Kuleda]

24th Ophus, 2718
CAFETERIA | LUNCH BREAK

L​​ilanee took careful note of the pronounciation of Ezra’s name, saying it out loud the same way he had, struggling with the last name a little. It came out as ‘vecks’, till she whispered it to herself a few times sternly, determined to get it right.
​​
​​As the Hoxian commented on the broken pot, Lilanee couldn’t help the slow wide smile that crept over her face, giggling and nodding.
​​
​​ “I hadn’t thought of it like that before. Here’s hoping the Professor feels the same way.” She turned to the Gioran again, letting her own field caprise the two boys in return.
​​
​​ “I suspect Marissa will try to do something fancy, but Janse is useless. He’s better with physical rather than magical work. Did you see his shoulders? Broad for a galdor, he likes to play ball with some of the bigger gents and likes to push them down. The other two I don’t know well enough. Probably just mimics of their masters.” Her smile was still on her lips as Ezra remarked at the loudness of Anaxi, and with a blush just like that it disappeared, lips pressing together with a guilty glance. She knew she was no better, worse in fact, when it came down to it. Her mouth was a river, and it ran constantly.
​​
​​Focusing back on Eirik, the Hessean found a smaller smile, reaching out to squeeze the younger students shoulder, feeling his flex against her like an affirmation of his determination.
​​
​​ “Together it is then, Eirik.” Once the boys had finished, Lilanee would collect her layers of winter wear, almost disappearing in the thick warmth of her cloak and scarf, hitching her satchel on her shoulder and books in her arms. Together, the unlikely trio would leave the cafeteria to make their way to the Lawns, with the last bystanders following them out.
​​
​​ “How are neither of you cold?” The red head said as they walked, looking between the two students with a shake of her head, steaming breath escaping above her scarf. She didn’t know the harsh climate of Hesse intimately, instead a child of the temperate Anaxi weather. Cold was cold and hot was hot. Blood flow and nerves and physical resistance aside, she couldn’t put it together with her current frozen-ness. They all had the same racial build, mostly, so theoretically they should all feel the weather the same. But they didn’t. It was fascinating.
​​
​​ “Took your clocking time! Marissa snapped as they arrived on the frost-snapped grass Lawn, placing books and bags down out of the way. A crowd had formed, their voices a constant murmur, most people dressed similarly to Lilanee. The Woesome Foursome as the Hessean now referred to them, all shivered with arms tucked under armpits and scarves wrapped tightly. Lilanee beamed at the Bastian delightfully.
​​
​​ “Sorry, but lunch and all. Couldn’t possibly entertain the idea of a good duel on an empty stomach. I do hope you weren’t too cold whilst you waited. It’s awfully chilly today.” Her blue eyes scanned the group, before looking back at Erze and Eirik.
​​
​​ “Shall we?” The words were barely leaving her lips when Marissa stepped forward, uttering monite for a quick Depth Perception spell, aimed for the trio.
​​
​​

Depth Perception

​​SidekickBOT Today at 11:17
​​Raksha: d6 = (6) = 6

​​
​​It was a perfect cast, rolling off her tongue like water off a ducks back, and engulfing the three students like a wave. Lilanee wavered, fumbling for a counterspell as she felt like the whole landscape wobbled on its axis.
​​
​​

Counterspell and Anesthetic

​​SidekickBOT Today at 11:21
​​Raksha: 2d6 = (2+2) = 4

​​
​​The counter worked, but only just, leaving her still affected and not quite able to judge distance. Dragging on her minor conversation, the red haired Hessean incanted the monite for Anesthetic, targeting Marissa rather than the four targets. It was a rather dismal attempt, and the Bastian countered it with a laugh.
​​
​​

Counterspell

​​SidekickBOT Today at 11:27
​​Raksha: d6 = (3) = 3