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[b]Santora Residence - Earlier[/b]

[color=silver]They had been [i]all too eager[/i] to get rid of him. He remembered the day the letter came in and he remembered thinking that his parents wouldn't [i]possibly[/i] send him off to some unknown school in the middle of absolutely nowhere. He'd been wrong. His dad had brightened at the prospect, perhaps envisioning a future where a professional [i]actually[/i] managed to teach his son corporeal necromancy. Maybe Nolan couldn't blame him, maybe he could, but now he sat at the dining room table on a very tense first day of school.

His dad was at the other end of the table, picking at a pancake breakfast that was steadily growing cold between them. Viktor Santora was a stately man with a headful of golden hair that was steadily growing streaked with white. He had the same pale blue eyes as Nolan and an often unsmiling mouth. He speared a strawberry and swirled it through runny whipped cream without looking up to meet Nolan's eyes. "[color=598527]I just don't know what you want me to say,[/color]" said Viktor before he bit into the strawberry at the end of his fork. "[color=598527] I've said everything I possibly can. You [i]know[/i] why this is important to us.[/color]"

"[color=8dc73f]No, dad,[/color]" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "[color=8dc73f]I [i]don't[/i], would you mind runnin' it by me for the hundredth time this week?[/color]"

It was worse somehow that his mother hadn't even stood up for him when it came to the Niklaus nonsense. She wasn't often quiet when she disagreed with his father but she'd been [i]very[/i] quiet about this. He was equally angry at them both, he couldn't shake the growing resentment as he watched Viktor meticulously saw off bits of pancake and eat them. He knew his outburst would be disregarded but he couldn't help but spit it out anyway.

Viktor chewed thoughtfully before finally glancing up and settling his gaze on the red stone resting at the hollow of Nolan's throat. "[color=598527]Need I bring up that silly amulet that you insist on wearing?[/color]"

Nolan could feel his face grow hot at the mention of Niklaus' amulet. It was a noble old thing, the golden fixtures were brassy with age and the chain was quite brittle. The stone itself was a dark and fathomless red, it held no other shades and the facets glittered when the light hit them. He brushed his fingers over it before tightening his hand around it. 

He knew what the family thought of his insistency on wearing it, he knew what other necromancers must think but [i]his grandmother[/i] had given it to him on her deathbed. She had worn that amulet her whole life and everyone had assumed she'd intended to be buried in it but no, she'd taken Nolan's hands in hers and given it to him. He hadn't taken it off since that day. It seemed [i]wrong[/i] somehow to dishonor the memory of someone so dear to him by refusing to wear what she'd gifted him.

"[color=8dc73f]Grandma Arcadia gave it to me,[/color]" he reminded him, keeping his hand on the stone. "[color=8dc73f]Y'want me to just toss it aside like it means nothin' to me?[/color]"

"[color=598527]I want you to grow up, Nolan,[/color]" responded Viktor. "[color=598527]I want you to get your shit packed and ready to go.[/color]"

He hadn't complained after that, feeling hushed by the razor edge to the words. He had quickly gathered his things, leaving a note for his mother to send in the rest and without so much as a goodbye from his father, he'd boarded the bus.
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[b]Marchand Academy[/b]

The ride on the bus was treacherous, each bump made his teeth grit and his nerves were on end. He couldn't bring himself to focus on any of the books he'd brought, frankly staring at the white pages had started to make him nauseous. He had settled for staring out the windows and tracking the colors of the cars that they passed. He almost couldn't hear his own thoughts over the cursing of the driver, he [i]almost[/i] couldn't so the entire ride fretting over potential meetings with other necromancers.

Only recently had the Santora family come to power in the council, it had been a landslide victory in a turnout that had taken many necromancers off guard. [i]Nobody[/i] had expected the Santoras to win and yet, they had. A history as littered im bones as theirs should have ruined their chances but somehow Viktor had come out on top with flying colors. Before this victory, they had been terribly reclusive, keeping to themselves and avoiding conflict. 

This reclusiveness had been all that Nolan knew for seventeen years, it was [i]surreal[/i] to imagine something outside of it. When he arrived at the school, he tried to keep his posture as open and friendly as possible. He didn't want to scare anyone off by walking with hunched shoulders or scowling avidly, so he made his way to the common room with a smile on his face and an easy gait. 

He made himself a plate heaped up with all sorts of goodies and he got himself a glass of orange juice. He didn't really have the stomach for food after the tense meal he'd had with his father but for the sake of image, he started to choke down some pancakes. He [i]hoped[/i] someone had the mercy to sit with him but he was content to wait.

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