[center][color=pink][u][h3]Lyn, College courtyard[/h3][/u][/color][/center]
[hr]

Lyn’s eyes drifted from one gargoyle to the next, noting their individual personalities in her head. Their stone expression stared at the far wall without any acknowledgment she passed by. This wasn’t abnormal since they needed to be activated, a hand placed on the carved rune and held there until a warmed. Then the stone creatures would hop off their pedestal before becoming the guides they were designed to. Each had their own unique personality, from grumpy to motherly, but it was difficult to tell at a mere glance. They all looked exactly alike. 

Shifting her attention from the unnatural statues, Lyn raised her hands to interlock behind her head. Her skull leaned back into the firm support she made while managing to keep up with her godfather. It didn’t surprise her he acted the way he did and she expected her own father to follow suit, both males too protective in her own opinion. 

Upon reaching the kitchens, the warm and alluring scents smacked into her nostrils. Her stomach rumbled in protest for food drawing her into awareness. She hadn’t even realized how hungry she was until now. Gently, she strolled up to the bench nearest the bonfire at the room’s center then parked her ass. Rubbing her shoulders, she let her skin absorb the fire’s heat until the chill was chased away. Casually her eyes shot toward the kitchens to hopefully spot her godfather’s arrival with soup, meat or something else to eat. Instead, she caught several of the cooks scrambling out of the Demonomancer’s path into the dining hall, mumbling disgruntled about their domain being invaded. The sight was certainly amusing enough to cause the young girl to giggle under her breath.   

Knowing it was going to take him some time, she glanced around the room. Oddly it was empty. No signs of students or staff, aside from the cooks earlier, were bustling around the tables. Usually, by this time, she estimated a bit past noon, there were a few stragglers still enjoying a leisure meal before earning their keep within the College. Shrugging off the weird feeling, Lyn didn’t have to wait long before Tyrael strolled out of the kitchen and returned to the room. There were two large sandwiches on the tray he juggled, her eyes fixed to the appetizing display and waited until he commented. 

[color=pink] “Thank you, Uncle Tyrael.”[/color] She eagerly, almost instinctively, took what seemed to be the larger of the two. It easily was held together by the bread, despite the overpacked middle. 

[color=pink] “I also have something to give back to you too,”[/color] she commented offhandedly before she extended her teeth, then sank them into the sandwich. The filling threatened to spill out all over her front from the size of her bite. 

[center][h3]Lidda, Office[/h3][/center]
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Lidda was silent. Her golden eyes flickered, showing life, as she listened to the student’s laments about the scars ‘history’ and her personal distaste for them. Truthfully the teacher found herself unsurprised by the fact. Alaira reminded her of numerous Eania crusaders in the army. Their pride based solely on hard-earned scars, wounds and various disfigurements they refused to allow to become erased during the healing process. So she understood the concept better than Alaira might’ve been aware and even agreed. These weren’t ‘proud’ scars. Through they were reminders of mistakes never to repeat, lessons learned. 

Instead of lecturing or putting forward the bit of insight, Lidda continued to listen. Her forearms crisscrossed over the desk surface. They cushioned where her torso leaned in as she continued to listen, her expression indifferent much like the sphinx's cat counterpart. The only signs of life were the flickering eyes that shifted on occasion to blink.  

When Alaira finished, the teacher became blunt but honest. 

“No, it’s not. However, it doesn’t mean I can’t relate or understand it. Crusaders in the Eania army, the elite soldiers, were often sent out across the land into dangerous territory and found their scars to be badges of pride. Of life victories and lessons to learn from even,” Lidda stated before she rose upright, “Sometimes we’re own worst critics because we feel unsuited for praise or anything positive. It’s how things are sometimes, but in the end, only you can influence changes you make to your life. Especially those most meaningful and will stick.”  

Casually Lidda slipped down from her chair then gestured for Alaira’s hand again, focusing on reshaping the skin into something more natural. Being half snow-elf and half orc herself, it gave her an interesting insight into the blending of two races. 

“I don’t think that’s needed. Most of the novices only know cosmetic changes so you injuring yourself is only going to get Samuel on my case. Besides, we tend to use wild animals for healing practice, assisted by the psychomancy class. The cosmetic effect wears off after an hour and at worse, you’ll either look elegant or colorful for the time,” Lidda hoped that put the student at some ease at least.