[center][h1][color=pink]Jideh Basrah[/color][/h1]
[@Arya10108909][/center]
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[b]7:52 AM[/b]

Jideh jolted up out of bed, flailing out of his bed and landing on the floor with a thump. He blearily turned his head to look at the clock and winced when some bone in his neck creaked. Taking a deep breath he pushed himself into a seated position and saw that it was almost 8:00 AM. Who on earth was [i]screaming[/i] at eight in the morning? Jideh, in boxers only, opened his door and stared across the common room. Of course his new roommate would be. He started mumbling some dirty things under his breath, things his mother might've cuffed him for if she'd hear him saying them as he closed his door and set to getting dressed.

Jideh dressed in all-purpose clothing, suited for a gardener, student, and type of teen who gave enough of a damn to not be a slob, but knew he didn't need to impress anybody. That translated to some beige cargo-pants that allowed him to remove the pant legs to create shorts, a white undershirt and dress shirt, and a long black coat. He decided to forego a tie because he had no impression that there were any formal events today, and as always he had his seed pouch in a pocket, trowel through his belt loop, and his father's work gloves stuffed in another pocket. Jideh grabbed his bag, took out his room key, and made his way out of the dorm.

[color=pink]"Morning."[/color] Jideh said, an afterthought as he opened the door before pausing... His stomach growled. He stuck his bag in the door, turned round and entered the kitchenette. He opened up the fridge and rooted around for the sandwich he'd prepared yesterday night. He'd intended to save it for lunch. Jideh began tearing into the sandwich with a vengeance, and did a double-take when he spotted a bag of assorted veggies just sitting in the shelf of the fridge door. He snatched those up too and then kicked the fridge close and high-tailed it out of the dorm. He did [i]not[/i] want to be late for class.

[center][h1][color=gold]Jordan Manilow[/color][/h1]
[@Arya10108909],[@baraquiel],[@CrabInATree],[@Crusader Lord],[@hagroden],[@Hammerman],[@Kalleth],[@liferusher],[@Old Amsterdam],[@Pseudo Stygian],[@Raptra],[@Regitnui],[@Rune_Alchemist],[@Sailorsadie],[@Stern Algorithm],[@Zelosse][/center]
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[b]8:50 AM[/b]

Jordan Manilow had recovered from the injuries he'd sustained a few days ago, but only through extensive procedures carried out by the Academy's phenomenal medical staff. Even so, being subjected to voluntary manipulation of his blood and other tissues always left him feeling worn out. Based on the kinds of things that came out of his mouth while Jordan was under the influence of their anesthetics, not to mention the already stressful nature of the operations they'd performed, he could only wonder at the resilience of the doctors who managed to get hired at the Academy. All of his weariness had culminated with his injuries, which compounded the weariness he'd already been growing aware of lately. The doctors, deciding to take advantage of having him on the operating table already, had taken the initiative to...

[color=gold][i]No, best not to think about that now...[/i][/color]

Jordan was performing morning stretches and warm-ups at the Elemental Academy Track and Field, located a short distance from The Shed, and which lay in the shadow of the central buildings at this hour of the morning. He'd instructed all of the students to show up at 9:00 AM sharp, and he was very interested in finding out how many students could take him seriously. Of course, he wouldn't give people who showed up on time a break. Hell, he'd scold people who showed up earlier than requested. Attendance had always seemed to Jordan to be a thing of absolutes. You either attended, or you didn't. All other things could be discarded when you took into account that what really mattered was merely being where you were supposed to be. Maybe it was Jordan's training, but the idea of everybody fitting into a place where they belonged and served their purpose to the best of their ability pleased him.

He contemplated this pleasure at conformity, growing quite philosophical as he ran through stretching his legs, arms, back, sides, neck, wrists, the works. So many people wrote off soldiers as having no mental capacity, or flexibility, and Jordan figured the reason why was obvious enough. Soldiers weren't called upon to give dialectical treatises on human nature, despite their having had some of the strongest distilled tastes of what it was to be human of any given individual. Jordan supposed it wasn't so much reflective of reality, but of the perception, and he had his doubts about being able to change the perception. Jordan had met his share of the "thoughtful soldiers" who read while they had recess, and composed poems or sang songs for their company between rotations. There was also the engineers, the coordinators, intelligence, logistics, and a plethora of intelligent people at work in the Forces. People with passions, interests, and hobbies outside of the martial domain. There were most certainly people whose defining interest was their obsession with the martial, but those were surprisingly infrequent, or at least more infrequent than you might expect. In the face of all these varied types of soldier, Jordan was left baffled at why the only soldier who remained in the forefront of people's minds was the brave, stupid but brave, foot soldier who acted as a martyr. It could be the romanticism, or the archetypal symbolism, or perhaps the general dearth of nuance to be found in the media, which was chiefly responsible for the way in which the military was depicted? He couldn't say for-

[color=gold]"Ow."[/color] Jordan winced, something in his back complaining very loudly, disrupting his train of thought. He laughed softly, his meditative state bringing out the side in him that Catherine had admired. [color=gold][i]Catherine...[/i][/color] Jordan sighed and shook out all of his newly stretched muscles. He felt marginally better. There was of course one muscle that he never stretched anymore, but one that he itched to use. Jordan's eyes fell on the abundance of dust, dirt, soil, rock, and earth under his feet. He could feel it. Calling to him, reaching out for his touch, beckoning him to... what? Jordan was struck by how greatly his awareness had expanded, how much more he could feel in his element. Confusion was his first reaction, and he squatted down and brushed a hand along the ground. Shocks of information came to him, not surprising in their detail, as he'd always been capable of such as an Earth wielder. No, the truly mind-boggling aspect of what he experienced was the speed and breadth with which he acquired this information. For example... [color=gold]"There's a deposit of rose quartz, impurities of titanium and iron, roughly twelve meters by four meters by seven meters, directly underneath me at a depth of nine meters."[/color] Jordan whispered, more to himself than to anybody else. 

Then before he could experiment further, the sensation of heightened awareness withdrew, like a sinking tide as abruptly as it had arrived. Mystified, Jordan walked over to his usual place by the stands, and climbed up into the support beams underneath. The gym teacher arranged his legs properly, and then swung himself to hang upside down from the beams, facing the direction of the central building, eyes closed. [color=gold][i]Kids had better arrive soon,[/i][/color] Jordan thought, [color=gold][i]because the way things are going right now, they'll need all the training they can get.[/i][/color]