[center][h1][color=lightslategray]Ceiran Strivelyn[/color][/h1][/center][hr]

[color=lightslategray][i]Yeah, this is a good idea[/i][/color], were his thoughts as the speech ended. They wouldn't have chosen him, of this he was fairly certain. Mako knew, and it would be wildly irresponsible of her to let him go. Although it's not like he loses control while Twitching, he just becomes a bit more sadistic. His instinct was spurred by this thought, and he started eating an apple he'd stowed in his bag.

He stands up, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he walks toward the exit. He was near the back, so naturally he was one of the first to leave. He wanted to beat the crowds there, so this worked for him. He walked with his usual brisk stride, considering whether or not to check the notice board. It wasn't far from where he was going though, so he dropped by. Much to his surprise, and a little to his guilt, he was listed on a team. Team U. The name was already getting him excited. The mission didn't sound as dull, though. An industrial zone could contain all kinds of mystery. As for his team mates, he wasn't well acquainted with them, but they'd talked occasionally. Mako and Yurius were the supervisors, which made Ceiran think Mako put him on her team on purpose. To gather information about his condition.

And with this thought, the rush of the crowd caught up with him. They soon crowded around the bulletin board, not dissimilarly to how they crowded around the corpse. Only this time Ceiran wasn't watching from a window, and there wasn't much more he wanted than to get out of there. The crowd was polite, but intent on reaching the bulletin, which was apparently the only thing that mattered at the moment. Well, for them at least. He felt a rush of adrenaline, and began politely shoving his way to the edge of the crowd. Thank the powers that be it wasn't the Twitch. 

He had calmed down by the time he'd found a small alcove to sit in, under a set of stairs. He dragged his Grimoire from his bag, and allowed the old leatherbound tome to fall open in his lap. Irregularly placed bookmarks litter the pages, doing what bookmarks do, and marking certain pages for future revision. He didn't know where it had come from prior to his mother owning it. She had passed it to him on some odd conditions, and ever since it was gifted to him he'd learned a great deal. It contained all kinds of knowledge: Spells, stories, songs, rituals, species, herbalism, and in the most detail, Mana Manipulation. It's pages were so great in number that even if you had twelve years of only reading, you wouldn't exhaust it's knowledge. It had fallen open on a page detailing the proper preparation of alcohol for use as a base in potion-making.

And so he sat, under a stairwell, with an overlarge book in his lap, reading about potion bases and their qualities. Somewhat hoping that the crowds would disperse so he could find his teammates and discuss their mission.