The colour-drenched magnificence of the Neon Court in Mumbai vanished in a whirl of impossible light and burning darkness as Maia drew on her power. Warping reality came easily to her; she barely had to think about it, her mind seeing the twisting paths of possibility all around and dancing merrily down them, burning with silver light and skirting the catastrophe-curve of madness with the ease of long practice and innate talent.

The scent of spices, the sound of skirling instruments and the eternal festivities of the Court, the heat and humidity and the lingering liquid tones of her mother's goodbye were all instantly replaced with the sounds and smells of the sea and imminent rain as the portal dissipated around her and her luggage. It was a single small bag – at least, on the outside. The [i]inside[/i]...now, that was a different story entirely, a dimensional regression with n mouths, easily big enough to hold everything she could require, and quite a bit else besides. Useful, but – as she'd discovered – painfully inimical to complex life. A stepping stone on the way to one of her goals, and a significant one at that, but only a stepping stone.

The world around her was a far cry from the gilded halls of her home: grey rock, blue sky, blue sea and a vicious chill curling in from the ocean, battering against the stout towers of the Academy itself. She arrived alone and subtle – skill lay in that unobtrusiveness, any novice could (and did) induce sheets of harmless flame, glowing specks of light in impossible colours, the deep-toned rumble of unseen bells and so on as the energies of their inefficient magic discharged in random but flashy ways.

Being alone was another perk; a long-distance teleport was always easier with just her, and there was little [i]point[/i] in retainers and guards and hangers-on, supporting her non-existent dignity. Maia Eltharin was, here and now, a student mage. That her mother ruled the Neon Court with an iron fist in a velvet glove was merely another fact, not the defining point of her life. So ran her thinking, anyway, and, shouldering her bag with ease – the weight of its contents being another thing her magic laughed at – she took her first steps towards her future, moving with impeccable grace and a certain...[i]alacrity[/i]. After the heat of India, the climate of the Irish Sea was [i]cold[/i], and inside her whispering silver raiment, Maia shivered as the chill wind struck gooseflesh from her arms, despite the furs, hurrying towards the Academy buildings and – hopefully – warmth.

Alas, such was not to be – her guide led her through a flowering garden, the air painted with the sweet scents of a hundred flowers, and she thought she felt the subtle artifice of heating and fertility enchantments worked into the soil and the planters both – but there was no time to inspect or excavate, the smiling flicker-life guide gently chivvying her onwards, towards a series of benches arrayed before a podium.

She sat amid a sea of flicker-life humans – although there [i]was[/i], at least, the occasional other immortal in the ranks – and tried not to shiver too noticeably. Maia had been spending most of her time in India for the better part of a year, after all, and had acclimatized to that sprawling, dynamic country's heat and humidity, even though she'd been born and mostly raised in the frequent mists and weeping rains of the British Isles, just a few miles away as the crow flew.

She knew of the headmaster by reputation, of course – most people did, in the post-War environment, probably even the isolationists in their few forest bolt-holes – and her mother had spoken of the man with respect, too, something accorded to very few humans. It would be wise, therefore, to [i]pay attention[/i]. And to not get on his bad side. If she knew her mother, the Lady Neon would have sent gifts to the man to sweeten Maia's way in the Academy...but if she knew powerful mages, on the other hand – and Maia had seen a few in the Court's halls – then such things would not afford her a substantial indulgence.

Best to err on the side of caution, therefore. Being burned to cinders wasn't high on her to-do list.

The Rules – she capitalised them in the privacy of her own head – seemed fairly simple. Straightforward common sense, standard fare for a school, but – and this was the important part – backed up by the impressive sorcerous firepower of Headmaster Wick and his faculty. Arkangrad hadn't become the premier institution of magical learning by being mediocre, and to underestimate [i]any[/i] professor, or any staff member in general, was likely to be massively unwise.

At the conclusion of his speech, [i]something[/i] began to prickle Maia's skin. Squirming slightly, she managed to fish it out without giving everyone a free show and arched one perfect ice-blonde eyebrow in surprise as she read it. The Academy looked much larger than it would have needed to be to accommodate the student intake; she'd vaguely hoped, therefore, for a private room. Not to be squished in with three others – although [i]squished[/i] was stretching it a bit, when one considered her specialty.

Her guide rematerialized at the end of the speeches, and was able to give her directions to her room. Simple and direct, her footsteps followed the path unerringly, drinking in the surroundings and ensuring she'd never have to [i]walk[/i] there again. Oh, she could have teleported blind, based on a description, but that was risky, more energy-inefficient and, in a magical academy, who knew where she'd end up?

One journey wouldn't hurt.

In the event, the room was less awful than she'd first thought. It wasn't a dormitory, as such, just two bedrooms and a communal area, all done in a comfortable but bland institutional style. Maia could have been at any moderately well-heeled university in most of Western Europe, for all the character the rooms possessed.

Her room had been marked with a little star on the map so mysteriously – and uncomfortably – provided, and she made a beeline for its closed door, experimentally pushing at the doorhandle. It rattled and refused to budge.

Things were off to a flying start. Muttering a curse in Hindi, and not caring who heard it, in between the blinks of her eyes she teleported from [i]this[/i] side of the door to [i]that[/i]. The room she found herself in was considerably warmer, and she sighed in relief at the welcome heat, but most of her attention was taken up by the figure already present, busy next to one of the two beds that faced one another. 

Presumably her roommate, who had perhaps wished for privacy just as much as Maia herself had wanted it. Hence why the door had been shut and locked. Oh well; too late to worry about that now. A tall girl – much taller than Maia, even with her vicious heels – with a tumbling cascade of jet black hair. And – was that [i]fire[/i]? No – an illusion, surely. There was the smell of spice in the air, too, faint but definitely present, a pleasant perfume.

“[color=LightBlue][b]Hallo there,[/b][/color]” she said, putting her best foot forward, her voice the cut-glass and crystal tones of the achingly well-bred, honed and sharpened by a battery of tutors and the decadent maelstrom of her home. “[color=LightBlue][b]Maia. How d'you do? It seems we're to be room-mates.[/b][/color]” She cast an eye over the half-decorated chamber, and remarked with a mild smile: “[color=LightBlue][b]Interesting décor.[/b][/color]”