[center][img]https://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjgwLjc2MWFkYi5TV0Z1SUVNdUlGSnBkbVZ5Y3csLC4wAAA,/sketch-gothic-school.regular.png[/img][/center] [center][img]https://i.imgur.com/CJWxUyh.png[/img][/center] [right][sub][b]Location:[/b] Ares Colloseum -> Apartment 2F -> Mystic Forest and the Naiades Lakeside [b]Mentions:[/b] [color=F0E68C]Lyra Woods[/color] [@Filthy Mudblood] [/sub][/right][hr][hr] Half an hour or so after the introductions and, in some cases, fond greetings and clinging embraces, the students dispersed. Ian offered a hand to Lyra with her luggage, as any gentleman would, and they settled in their shared apartment shortly. The minutes of carrying several pounds worth of paraphernalia was not nearly enough to sufficiently stretch his muscles after the hours-long drive from L.A. where he’d been residing the previous week on account of his mother’s concerts, meet-and-greets, and a couple of free days she’d used to encourage Ian to explore the dizzying array of venues the city offered every which way. Shaking his head as if the physical action might help disrupt his reverie, Ian set to organizing his belongings. He refolded each piece of clothing carefully, placed the toiletries in the bathroom, prepared an efficient study place at his desk as he adorned it with books, notebooks, journals, pens, pencils, acryls, and the like. His laptop and tablet were at one side of the desk, his analogue writing and drawing supplies at the other. His bag and travelling case, now empty, joined the apparel in the wardrobe. That done, Ian was sorely tempted to just throw himself on the bed, but he did [i]not[/i] want to contaminate his sleeping place with the almost day-old sweat practically adhered to him. Thankfully, a 10-minute shower both fixed that problem, and energized him to boot. Now that taking a nap was no longer so overwhelmingly appealing, the dark-headed teen, dressed in black sweatpants, white T-shirt, and a crimson hoodie, headed outside. He heard whispers of the up-coming party throughout the Hestia building already, but ignored the enthusiasm and scoffed at the idea that this year, it would supposedly be arranged by the lake. If his light jog happened to take him to the self-same lake within the Mystic Forest, well, that was no-one’s business but his own. He slowed down to an ambling stroll as he heard voices from further in beyond the trees, and joined the two groups at the lakeside with a surprised blink. [color=8A2BE2]“So, the party actually will be [i]here[/i],”[/color] he remarked to no-one in particular. [color=8A2BE2]“Colour me impressed,”[/color] he commented, his monotonous tone belying the interest his words might have otherwise expressed. He swept his gaze from person to person, but beyond the minute assessment of who he knew – no one well, not beyond their name or reputation – Ian chose to ignore the gathering. If a crowd were to assemble, he could leave easily enough before risking suffocation – or worse. With a roll of his shoulder, Ian walked casually right to the edge of the water, stretched, then promptly sat down cross-legged, and dipped a hand into the water. It was cold – too cold to swim comfortably. [color=8A2BE2][i]Shame, that.[/i][/color] Nonetheless, he continued to play idly with the lake’s surface, not disturbing it overly much, but enough that perhaps a Naiad might deign to appear. If there were any resting nearby, warning them of the impending noise the students’ revelry was sure to cause would not be amiss.