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[quote=A note with a complicated tiger seal, as above][color=goldenrod]قلیل،

آپ کی اگلی ادائیگی واجب الادا ہے۔ مدد کرنے کے لیے، ہم کچھ معلومات شامل کرتے ہیں۔ ایک چھوٹی جرمن لڑکی، جس کا نام K سے شروع ہوتا ہے۔ ایک امیر گھرانے سے تعلق رکھنے والی۔

آپ جانتے ہیں کہ اگر آپ ہماری ادائیگیوں میں ناکام رہتے ہیں تو کیا ہوتا ہے۔[/color][/quote][hr]The paper crumpled in his hand, after having read it a dozen times to commit the details to memory. This was his own doing, after all. He got himself into this mess, there was no point denying it. This school was to be Kalil and his father's freedom or they would be damned. Failure and hesitation could not take a place in his heart, guilt and concious needed to be thrown away into the wind. He took to cupping the paper between his palms, the formula around the paper revealing themselves to him. So many secrets lay within, so many more secrets he could learn. If only he could escape these bothersome people and be done with it all. Heat flowed into the paper, unnaturally hot in his hands. Embers grew into flames, dissolving the letter to little pieces of unrecognisable dust.

Kalil sighed and brought heat to his [i]shisha[/i], pulling vapour from the miniature pipe with detachment. The vapour already lay heavy in the air of the empty bathroom, much like the thoughts within his head. The room provided privacy from the world outside and he had purposefully smoked it out to make sure the gaseous contents of the room were known to him. Sound could come into the room but no such thing could come out, the vibrating particles he perceived dulling the sounds emitted from himself. Much study had been done to know what sound wave propagated with what energy through what gas. To nullify sound to a whisper, one needed to study the formulae of every factor within their surroundings. A process which he relished and one he wished was valuable enough to pay off his debts. He found himself talking to no one, letting the sounds of his native Urdu carry only to his own ears.

[color=goldenrod][i]"If only I could do this all day, sit here and ignore the world around, smoking tobacco."[/i][/color] Another detached inhalation, flavour bursting on his tongue. Kalil glanced at the miniature pipe clipped to his silk pants. [color=goldenrod][i]"Hmm, blueberry mint. A favourite of my father. A joke from the Bengals or a message?"[/i][/color]

The Golden Bengals had taken to sending the merchant heir differing flavours for the shisha every month. Some held hallucinogens while others merely had tobacco within. It was otherwise expected of him to finish the flavour by the end of the month or further interest would be put on his debt. A sort of cruel joke, tying him with addiction like that. Kalil liked to think that sometimes, his father would be able to choose what flavour he was given. Imagination at this point, since he had not seen the old man in what felt like years. Shying away from those thoughts, he took to pondering upon what he had seen of the school which would be his new home. Rich and extravagant, as befitting the sort of pomp he had expected of such a place. Not unlike his own old manor in wealth but much more artificial. He could sense the grand history behind his old home, passed on from merchant to merchant's son throughout many years. Dhaka was a grand city, though unknown to much outside the Orient, and it had close to a million people. He had felt the hustle and bustle, constant movements. Even the dust of formulae he had seen there seemed to be [i]moving[/i], the air was never the same from one place to another.

Here, it felt still. Maybe he had just been too used to large cities to be expected to like Bermuda. Academic City felt empty in comparison. And certain things rubbed him the wrong way. The segregation of the adult population from the students almost seemed unnecessary and reminded Kalil of some of the injustices from the Mughals themselves. The rulers of the Empire were different from their majority Hindu subjects and though integration had been progressing, the separation between the masses and state could still be seen in some cities. He had seen so in some cities, the Mughals separated from the Hindus. An air of superiority from the former to the latter. He was sure that if he spied any students emulating the same sort of thing to the "lessers" beyond those walls, he would take out his building frustration on them, consequences be damned. 

Another puff and the broiling fury ebbed away from him, Kalil taking measured breaths. It was time for him to do what he needed to do. [color=goldenrod][i]"Stop escaping duty, idiot."[/i][/color]

Looping the hose around the shisha securely, the tan-skinned heir stood and opened the door. Extending his palms, he concentrated on the formula which lay within and the formula which lay outside, moving the vapour inside to dissipate outside. Satisfied with work done, he fished an artful sketch of a young girl from his pocket. Green eyes, light hair, a metal contraption around her. Cute, for a girl so young. He had seen her around the tour group but hesitated to approach, knowing that many Occidentals had a superiority complex when it came to someone like him. The hostile sounding last name did not help for a friendly image at all. Foreigners and their strange names, why couldn't they name their children something normal? There were so many symbols and syllables he felt himself tounge-tied saying it aloud.

Kalil brushed imaginary dust off his shoulders and adjusted his turban, ruby jewel and silver swaying. Heirlooms which he did not have the heart to sell but with his growing depseration, he may need to. Righting his ornamental robes, he set to walking around the Hall of Greats. Students mingled and littered around the hall, some indulging in the food, others in the alcohol. Some seemed to indulge in the latter a little too much and a little too often than what was appropriate. Not that he could say anything about people indulging in their vices.

Picking up a cool glass of sauvignon blanc from a servant, he set to searching, eyes scanning the room. He almost risked blowing his cool facade when the white wine hit his tongue. He nearly sputtered, shaking his head. [color=goldenrod][i]"Why the fuck do Westerners like this shit?"[/i][/color] he muttered in Urdu, setting the glass down. He'd rather have a farmer's distilled fire-drink than that bittersweet crap. He settled on taking a handful of more familiar Turkish Delights in his hand, munching on them to get rid of that foul taste.

His fortunes would rise, then unfortunately fall, once Kalil saw the Konigs- Konik- Korny- the [i]German girl[/i] beelining it to an Occidental male. And he refused to interrupt that conversation with a handful of sweets, acting like a weird fellow to what amounted to a child. Instead, the merchant heir set to come near enough to the pair to hear them but far enough to hopefully not arouse suspicion.

Kalil munched on his turkish sweets, ears taut but eyes gazing down to his hands. Maybe these will help somehow? He made to grab a few more assortments of sweets from a passing waiter, just in case.[hr][@Jumbus][@Izurich]