Passing through the Black Gale was always a strange thing for FL. Not because of the sensation or any trepidation he felt (normal emotions and a conventional sense of touch were things well past him), but just out of sentimentality. For him, it was the same as coming face-to-face with his own killer. This is the reason you are dead. This is the reason your parents are dead. This is why you are up and moving around despite these facts. All strange truths that were difficult to comprehend for him, even now. But that aside, he would have time to contemplate later. Now he had to focus on his education, as all young men of his age should.

The Academy was in sight, just as awe-inspiring as it was last he saw it. The scores of other griffins with their charges were flying into the campus, as well. While the sight of the various people, things, and things that were people was still quite intriguing to FL, he felt like he was missing out on the wonder that his more "mundane" peers were experiencing. To put it colloquially, he had, "seen some shit," as it were. The griffin landed, FL dismounted and collected his luggage, and the mount seemed very relieved to be unburdened by the perverse existence that FL represented.

The walkways were filled with bustling students, many in awe of the sights and wonders of the Academy. How cute. A large tribe of greenskins was gathered in one area, shouting about honor in death and all that. FL felt a tinge of desire to correct them on their perception of the afterlife but, hell, let them have their fun. You only live once. Continuing through the main hall toward the auditorium, FL paid less attention to where he was going, and more attention to trying to decrypt the school WiFi key. WPA8? What was this, the middle ages?

Before long, he made it to the auditorium, and filed into the undignified position that he and the rest of the underclassmen shared near the stage. Whatever, all of these "years" politics were bullshit, and FL had a hard time buying into them. Rather than continue to gawk at his surroundings as quite a few others continued to do, he spent the next five minutes watching funny cat videos on the internet browser inside his own metal skull. The message of "LOL" was displayed in bold letters across his facial display.

The ceremony started, the headmaster came out, and the speeches began. FL was sure that the speech was meant to shock and terrify the various fleshy ones in the audience (though he did appreciate the indirect shout-out), and returned to his cat videos midway through. Thought the headmaster's comment on being a "gemstone" was intriguing. There was an analogy for youth here, somewhere. Something about shaping the mind like a faceted, something or another. Hang on.

[i]Like a diamond,
Chip to sculpt its brilliance,
Mogami River.
-Frontal Lobe[/i]

There, that should do it. Saved "asfbgfhsb.txt" and tucked away to be shat out for a creative writing grade later in the year. Easy money, baby. Oh, something about surprises under their chairs. He hoped it was a new car. Or just a fuckton of bees. Mostly the bees. Ah, nope, it was a piece of paper. It had its own appeal, but, you know, swarms of stinging insects had a little more zest to them. 435, huh? Why was it hand-written? They couldn't afford printers in this place? Toner [i]was[/i] expensive, he supposed. Anyway, more important than that, someone was screwing with him. Four was death, three was one less than four, and five was one more. Triple fours by any account. Triple death. Truly an auspicious assemblance of numerals.