[center] [h1] [color=salmon] C a n v a s  
A h k t a r - 
S t e r l i n g [/color][/h1][/center]

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[h3]Dining Room[/h3]

Canvas carefully un-arranged a few of the strands of dark hair he'd just finished combing into place, so that it wouldn't look like he spent twenty minutes on it. Even though he had.

Jogging into the hall for breakfast, he spotted his roommate and cut into line with him. [color=salmon]"Ey, Nolan,"[/color] he said, like they were just meeting for the day, like they hadn't just been silently doing their own respective thing in the same room. Canvas was not a morning person. It took walking out the door, like some kind of magical gateway, to jump start him into his usual, talkative self. He was glad his roommate didn't feel obligated to talk to him every second, and they could just....chill.

[color=salmon]"Any big free day plans? Theaters to visit? Stuff to buy? Outdoorsing to outdoors? Oh wait. We're in the middle of nowhere and we can't leave."[/color] He paused, thoughtful.  [color=salmon]"I wonder if we could throw a pool party without Kovalenko putting our asses in detention,"[/color] he mused.

Canvas liked Nolan. He'd lucked out in terms of getting another necromancer, and getting one who was friendly and normal-ish, and getting one who didn't even practice corporeal, so that he didn't have to bite back remarks when it grated on the values of his upbringing. Because ugh. Nobody wanted to hear about his damn values. What fun was that?

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[center][h1][color=#DA70D6] T a t i a   F a l e[/color][/h1][/center]

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[h3]Courtyard[/h3]

The breeze rustled Tatia's short chiffon skirt and licked her hair as she poised her bow to the violin strings. It probably looked charming but it was just a little too cold for that, and distracting. So she made it stop, erecting a pocket of still air around her. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine she was in a practice room at her old high school, minus the smell of old carpet.

Tatia had been getting the hang of the whole magic thing. Well, not skill-wise. She was still pretty mediocre. But the culture shock had more or less worn off, and she only had to blink blankly at people every once in a while, now.

But she had still fallen out of her rhythm, and so she had woken up a little early, grabbed her violin case, and slipped outside to a corner od the courtyard, to do something normal.

[color=#DA70D6]"Long time no see," [/color] said Tatia, angling her jaw into the chinrest.

She began to play one of her many memorized pieces. Vitali's Chaconne.

The first clear, loud note sang across the courtyard, followed by a sharp melody, each note flowing to a crisp vibratto, punctuated by moments of two-string harmony, and extra, unexpected runs...she liked to season songs to her own taste.

It was obvious she had spent a lot more hours in her life practicing music than she had practicing magic.

There was no sense of wonder visible on her face. A very small smile was all. She looked almost bored. But she wasn't. That was just her face.

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