[@Crimmy]

[color=7ea7d8][u][b]Conall Linumbienne[/b][/u]

"Feh..."[/color]

In contrast with her growing joy of reminiscence, Conall was instead hit with the first wave of legitimate, open consternation at the prospect.

There really wasn't any reason distrust an Academy as revered and storied as Beacon to misplace his stuff at all, let alone in a single night, but even so—

Even so, that didn't mean he had any reason to like the idea. One could call it sentimentality, call it his houndish instincts, call it whatever they wanted wanted, but the weapon that he carried so easily and deftly was still like a fifth limb.

A fifth limb, that guaranteed safety. He was a good brawler with no shortage of grit and a respectable level of craft without it, sure—

But if Conall had [i]Luin Celtchair[/i] in his grasp, he knew he could slay any foe he came across. Whether it was real or not.

[color=7ea7d8]"Not like they're giving us much choice on the matter. That's a fret..."[/color] he grumbled. [color=7ea7d8]"Still, though..."[/color]

After a deep breath, the tension began to loosen again. In the end, his level head had won out.

[color=7ea7d8]"It's not like I can't see why."[/color]

A bunch of rowdy kids who were amped up about the upcoming trials stuck in a room together with weapons was a recipe for someone getting very hurt.

They continued on, before their paths split down either side of an upcoming hallway. Gentlemen to the left, ladies to the right.

[color=7ea7d8]"Welp, looks like this is where we break!"[/color] he said, playfully clapping the Cirsium girl on the back with a smirk. [color=7ea7d8]"I'll catch you later, Marsail!"[/color]