The aircraft was the proverbial ship of fools, or, at least, that was the first impression that Fir had of the band of individuals within her eye shot. The incoming students of Beacon Academy were a far cry from the relatively homogenous student body that she was used to Firelight. Instead, the airship felt more like a caricature of the diverse body of people in a crowded big city bus, if there was such a thing. Fir Juneau sat on the upper deck of the airship, watching her fellow newcomers as she nibbled on a small jelly cookie. She likely looked the most “normal” of the people on deck –She wore a simple orange knit sweater over an understated black school uniform. But she, too stood out, as she duly noted her lack of baggage compared to other students had already led to a few skewed glances or skeptical expressions. Indeed, she carried nothing on her body but the clothes she wore and the cookie she ate—everything else was safely hidden away in her own bubble of space. 

Melodramatic thoughts and opinions aside, the socially awkward freshman crowd was normal enough, save for a certain man in a tin suit sitting down and the rather conspicuous looking silver-haired fellow by the railings. She recognized the armor the fellow was donning as a top-tier model of one of Gruppe Juneau’s competitors, and ultimately she dismissed the guy as some rich kid who was showing off his expensive set of battle armor that his father gave him. The bloke by the railing, however, put Fir on a bit of an edge as he tactlessly (and overzealously) brandished his weapons in a fit of… whatever angsty emotion the kid was experiencing. Fir subconsciously edged herself away in her seat. In any case, there were a few acquaintances from her previous school attending Beacon, so transitioning into this new environment shouldn’t be too big of a deal.

Whatever uncomfortable thoughts Juneau had were interrupted by a near-silent beep in her ear, and a small phone-sized holopad appeared in her hand, almost as if it slid down from her sleeve. 

Aha, speak of the devil! Her fellow big-gun wielding friend Mr. Bunnysuit Ashart was in the bar just forward of where she was. Her phone disappeared again, and Fir stood up from the little bench she was sitting on. She might as well drop by and catch up with her former classmate. Taking off the sweater that covered her uniform, Fir left the windswept open deck into the bar below. 

Unfortunately, the first thing that Fir saw upon entering the bar area was not the beautifully arranged drinks nor her fellow classmates Ash and Eurwen by the rather buff bartender, but the disturbing bloke from earlier, playing idly with several vials of primary-colored dust at the bar counter. Several vials of colored dust that Fir specifically knew made up the basic ingredients for a volatile reagent used in bomb-making. Pouring random dust together might as well been akin to mixing bleach and ammonia, a big no-no that everybody except terrorists knew not to do. 

“Hey, mister! Hey! Listen, I wouldn't-” she started, drawing closer. 

But alas, it was too late, and in a second, the bar, the drinks, and the bartender’s shirt were no more, and there was now a great deal of soot all over Fir and her face.