[center][i]Her wagon spokes made of long spinners' legs,
The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers;
Her traces, of the smallest spider web;
Her collars, of the moonshine's wat'ry beams;
Her whip, of cricket's bone; the lash, of film;
Her wagoner, a small grey-coated gnat,
Not half so big as a round little worm
Pricked from the lazy finger of a maid;
Her chariot is an empty hazelnut,
Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub,
Time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers.
And in this state she gallops night by night
Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love;
O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on curtsies straight;
O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees;
O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream,
Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,
Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are...[/i][/center]

Dreaming naught of things which were, idle machinations of the wanting mind. Giving no more a reality of things than the deceit of the heart. Of lovers, of friends, of fortune, of fame, of glory, of victory and more. These phantasms which haunt the field of dreams, a falsehood we believe without a second doubt. Grasp them, and they are yours, every bit as real as they are willed to be. Dispel such thoughts from the unwaking world, and rise to hear the morning's call.

"Sacré bleu, zat iz loud." Zacharie picked himself off the floor, having fallen from his bed in the panic of the announcer's blaring voice over the PA. Usually he awoke to the sunlight peaking through the shades of his window and the scent of the Paris streets outside, but now underneath the earth, there was no such pleasure. That being said, the first thing to do was to get ready for the day ahead of them, now that the preliminaries were over. Placing in Light was unexpected for Zacharie, and now the assumed pressure to keep up was set upon him in lieu of staying in Wind and moderately doing well enough. Plus Wind did have its advantages, despite the luxurious showers in Light. There was plenty of time for a good soak, and dry, the scented soaps brought from home gave Zacharie a slight fragrance of lilac as he stepped out of the showers with a lavender-coloured towel around his waist. The steam fogged his glasses which were tucked between the folds of his towel as he returned over to his dorm to change into a new outfit from the buff. Maybe a few raised eyebrows at the colour of his towel, and the wafting scent which lingered around from the Parisian boy. 

Brushing was very important, not that Zacharie bared his teeth enough to make it matter, but dental hygiene is always appreciated. A simple black V-neck with subtle gradient design paired with some off-white skinny jeans should do, nothing too formal but not completely relaxed. A more formal short-sleeved shirt was thrown over it but left unbuttoned as to work more like a jacket, and his academy Light jacket was draped over his shoulders once again. Perhaps he prefer not to wear three layers of clothing as that would be far too stuffy, or perhaps he enjoyed wearing it like a half-cape. Regardless he ventured up to the cafeteria, having lost his meal from last night due to some fortunate event, hopefully they would have better offerings today. A fresh baked scone perhaps?

Nope, just breads. Lot and lots of breads to choose from, but nothing from a bakery proper. Carbs a-la-mode, and all the sugary spreads you could imagine. Oh and there was also Ben, with his posse, looking over today's offerings. What was it he was wearing? Some sort of track uniform underneath his jacket? His hair a bit moistened by either the shower water or... Nope, it was sweat as Zacharie got closer and smelled the subtle masculinity of a morning run. [color=6ecff6]"Bonjour à tous,"[/color] the Frenchmen greeted Ben and his troupe from behind, sliding up beside the Englishman and thinly spreading some orange marmalade on a piece of toast. [color=6ecff6]"I apologize for last night, I uh, 'ope it was okay? Ben, 'ave you met mon ami, Vincent? I believe 'e was in your dorms no?"[/color]

The drink table was next as Zacharie took a whiff of the coffee and wrinkled his nose in disapproval. The hot coffee met cold milk and stirred in with some sugar as he partitioned the black liquor into two cups and mixed it into a cafe au lait. It was unfortunate that the milk was cold, rather than heated as the drink was now warm at best. [color=6ecff6]"Coffee?"[/color] Zacharie offered Ben the second cup.