[center][h3][color=9e0b0f]Kyvir Lokerakir[/color][/h3] [@Conscripts][@Spirit][/center] [hr] Nearly two hours had passed since he'd taken up his position at his mistresses door, and in the time past he had began to think to himself, contemplating what duties he may be asked to fulfill. [color=9e0b0f][i]Perhaps Lady Mornelis will finally allow me to prove myself.[/i][/color] he thought to himself, the slightest semblance of a smile forming on his lips for less than a moment. It had been far, far too long since he had been in a good fight, the last battle he had attended was his final rite, the one she purchased him from. [color=9e0b0f][i]At least my magic hasn't dulled, I hope the same can be said of my swordplay.[/i][/color] He mused, a small flame floating a few inches from his chest before disappearing at Kyvir's order. Glancing down the hall, for the dozenth time, he looked at the shadows cast by the sun upon the stone floor and with a sigh, departed from his post. As he walked, he kept an eye on his surroundings and thought for a moment, before making his way to the cafeteria. The grand hall seemed less grand now, given that it wasn't brimming with food and laughter, but it was still grand albeit in a different manner than the night before. Making his way to the opposite end of the hall, he collected a light breakfast of raw lamb before taking a seat and eating it quickly. After his breakfast, Kyvir made his way to the room number his parchment read, and entered; surprisingly the classroom was already occupied by a younger human, and a matured Dark-Elf.