[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=F2541F]Atkin Bowman[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[/center][hr][center][color=F2541F][b]Location:[/b][/color] Wizard Tower 20[sup]th[/sup] Floor[/center][hr]
Atkin stood in front of the mostly bare wall of his room, paper held against it in place by his left hand as he put the final touches on the assignment he had been given the day before. He had been more than awake for quite a few hours now just working on this damn thing and by the time Arya had called for breakfast he'd gone over the whole thing in his head dozens of times. 

Since beginning his apprenticeship he'd found that there were times where he needed the early start if he wanted to actually get his work done by the deadlines given to him. Growing up on the streets had prepared him for a lot, writing down answers for practice problems were not one of them. Each letter took him a good few seconds to complete to his satisfaction. The pen felt awkward in his hand and the movements that writing took even more so. Mentally, he knew what he needed to do, but having his hand do it to the point where it could be read was the difficult part. 

Finally done, the wizard apprentice tossed his pen onto his desk, from which it promptly bounced off and rolled underneath his bed. Whatever, he'd pick it up later. Trying to shake away the cramps in his writing hand and stifling a yawn with the other, Atkin strolled into the kitchen. A kitchen that cooked and cleaned for you was still weird, but not nearly as off putting as his first day here when he thought the place was haunted. Despite the busting it had, it felt dead when he was used to his mum and sisters scurrying about getting everything done.

[color=F2541F]"Potions inquiry done,"[/color] Atkin declared with another half-yawn as he slapped the paper down onto the table. As he sat down he idly wondered was would be for breakfast. Today was supposed to be Coronation day, so there would be some sort of feast later, right? That was the kind of thing that was supposed to happen on these big events, at least it seemed right. So perhaps something light only meant to hold them over until later. However, altogether he wasn't really excited for the event. It seemed like it'd be an overly long, stuffy ritual where everyone involve would end up with sore feet or a sore rear end. Not at all what he would be interested in spending his day with, but that was likely how it would all turn out. The sacrifices one had to make.