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[@EchoicChamber][@VitoftheVoid]

Marcus rubbernecked the small scuffle blossoming on what formally was the buffet table and now a wrestling mat with a mixture of apathetic intrigue and roaring disappointment. 

It had taken an undue amount of effort to prepare l the succulent meals so generously provided by the school and now it was crushed into innumerable pieces underneath the writhing mass of bodies gathering around the scrimmage. That coupled with with the loss of his meal plate turned his mood sour. But only for a moment.

As the fight went on and insults were hurled, Marcus couldn't help but marvel and revel in the joviality of it all. The first day of school and already fights where breaking out. How would the rest of the year pan out? Family rivalries would run tensions high. Social orders would establish fairly quickly. Said orders would be invaded and destabilized by the unlikeliest of things. Perhaps a misinterpreted text. War would break out. Rifts would widen. Marcus could see it all.  The smallest of sparks would create a culture the first year students of Marchand would be forever known for. And he would be apart of it. Just not in this manner.

[i]That's pretty deep. If only everyone else would notice.[/i] Marcus mused humorously as he proceeded to untangle himself from the crowd growing around the scuffle.

With a grunt he finally disentangled himself. In the process he managed to rumple his red windbreaker, which he straightened almost immediately. Marcus had always been told he had a head for fashion. As did most Nigerians. He sported a proud ensemble featuring a fitting red windbreaker hoodie with white trim; clean pressed blue jeans; and crimson and white colored high-top sneakers.

[i]Perfection.[/i] 

Smiling with self satisfaction, Marcus unwittingly  wandered past the crowd and over to a new table, one it which a new duo of females made camp. He first laid eyes on the rather excitable one, the fight in which seemingly entertaining her to no end. She was rather short, perhaps five-two with shoulder length black hair and a pretty face. The other was of similar height to the first, but sported red hair, beautiful greyish-blue eyes and pastel pale skin. 

Marcus was prepared to introduce himself, ready to work his natural African charm on them, but something or someone had taken center stage. And it wasn't the fight. No, it was a professor. One of both feminine charm and masculine undertone coupled with a head for Pyromancy and Magical Theory. Marcus couldn't wrap is head around the concept. 

[i]Male or female? Does it matter? I can barely tell. Play it safe and use gender neutral pronouns.[/i] he thought to himself quickly.

Shrugging off the thought, he leaned back into the space between the two girls, a sloppy grin dancing across his face. [color=Gray]"Quite a first day ain't it?"[/color] he chortled as the professor wheeled out a technological behemoth.