Nao groaned inwardly as they walked through the Hall of Heros. He actively avoided this building after his orientation tour. It was a place for legends, those who strode toward the light relentlessly. Nao wasn't like that. He was brought up by the very darkness they swore to fight. He was tainted by it. He felt small in the presence of these legends. During his first year, he nearly left the academy. Between the bullying and ostrigization from the other magical students and the relentless march of remedial classes, Nao felt out of place. He'd missed years of academic and cultural advancement. He discovered music when he was 13. It took him months to acclimate to the idea of cars and even now he couldn't use a computer effectively. He wielded some of the darkest magics in the book and years of training made it almost impossible for his stoic facade to drop. The Hall of Heros served as a reminder of what he wasn't.

Two females wandered into the group as the approached the center. His nose twitched as he instinctively felt for their blood. Anyone who regularly practice blood magic developed a sixth sense for blood quality and types since spells were specific and often times you didn't have time to ask questions while stripping the liquid out of another's body. The girl with green skin and tipped ears was obviously inhuman. He didn't need magical senses to tell that. He frowned. The other didn't have a scent to her. Interesting. He shook his head slightly. No, bad Nao. That was an invasion of privacy on the highest level.


[color=gold]"Everyone enjoy the little breakfast and show this morning? What in blazes happened down there?"[/color] The voice snapped Nao out of his contemplations. Mr. Scott Lang addressed the group. Nao had a hard time getting a feel for the situtation; the man's face betrayed nothing. The young boy stepped forward to explain, followed by Charlotte. They seemed to have covered the basics of the situation, no need for him to get involved. He glanced at his watch and blanched. He'd never skipped class before. A yawn rose unbidden but he managed to stifle it. A sharp pick on his hand reminded him of something. He was still bleeding. He quickly ruffled through his bag, careful not to drip blood inside, and pulled out small band aids. He tipped off each finger.