[COLOR=GRAY][INDENT][INDENT][i]Sometimes, the world moves so fast that days feel like a blur.

Rory stood in silence as the crowd dressed in black quickly began to disperse. The rows upon rows of gravestones were some of the only company left as the teenager stared into the darkness of the open grave. His hands were stuffed into his pockets, mindlessly crumbling and ripping at the paper program for the service. By this point, Rory had run out of tears. This wasn't unexpected. There had been months of pain and deterioration leading up to this. By now, he was just empty. There was a shifting sound from the grass behind him, and Rory slowly turned around. Aunt Morse stepped up to her nephew and held him tight. He just stood stiff for a moment before reaching a hand up to pat his aunt softly on the back. She  leaned back and kept one hand on his shoulder, looking her nephew in the eyes. [color=FFFFFF]"Rory, let's get you home, ok? The twins are already in the car. It's getting late."[/color]

Next thing Rory knew, it had been days. He stood in the empty living room of his family home, devoid of the furniture and sophisticated art that always just looked like paint splotches to him. He shuffled his feet as he sulked towards the kitchen, flicking off the light switch. His eyes lingered on the colored scratch marks on the door-frame leading out into the hall. It felt wrong to leave those memories behind, and this place. Next thing Rory knew, though, he was behind the driver’s seat of his mom’s beat up minivan pulling into a parking lot. He stared up at the dull gray slab of concrete they called an apartment building. He took a deep breath, hands gripping the steering wheel tight. The sun had already set in the horizon, and the only lighting left in this parking lot was a solitary humming streetlamp. Rory grabbed the bag of food from his passenger’s seat and got out.

Turns out a medical degree didn’t come with cooking lessons.

The blur began to fade when he was startled by the sound of a thick manilla folder getting slapped onto the kitchen table in front of him. It was late again, a few weeks after the service. He raised an eyebrow, looking up to his beaming aunt who set a cup of coffee down next to him. [color=FFFFFF]“I know the last thing you need right now is me to be breathing down your neck about this, but I have to mail the materials tomorrow to get enrolled this late in the game. The question is… what do you want?”[/color]

Rory opened up the folder, and slowly exhaled a held breath as he recognized the logos and designs on the pamphlets and brochures at the front of the pile of documents. The logo was the same as a sweatshirt his mother wore all the time, from her alma mater: Pacific Royal Collegiate and University. Rory flipped through some of the papers, until his eyes locked on to the H.E.A.T. brochure. That was the program his father had mentioned. His eyes turned back towards his aunt.

[color=FFF200]“I… I think I want to give it a shot.”[/color][/i][/INDENT][/INDENT][hr][CENTER][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/1070187379547176990/1079962691625549945/image.png[/img][/CENTER][indent][sub][COLOR=SILVER][B]Location:[/B][/COLOR] [I]Kitchen and Stadium[/I] - [I]P.R.C.U. Campus[/I][/sub][sup][right][COLOR=SILVER][b]The Homecoming Trials #1.11 :[/b][/COLOR] [I]What the Hell is Kumbaya?[/I][/right][/sup][/indent][sub][hr][/sub][INDENT][sub][color=SILVER][B]Interaction(s):[/B][/COLOR] [I][@Jarl Coolgruuf][/I][/sub][SUP][RIGHT][COLOR=SILVER][b]Previously:[/b][/COLOR] [I]None[/I][/right][/SUP]
[INDENT][color=FFF200][i]“... Down at the body shop, doing something unholy…”[/i][/color]

Rory Tyler bobbed his head and tapped his feet as he sang quietly to himself, the sound of his words dulled significantly by the high pressure kitchen faucets running at full blast. He wasn’t at all displeased to be working as a dishwasher, working through stacks of dirty dishes on a line at the scrubbing section. He relished the opportunity to put his strength to good use in some small capacity, facing each bit of hardened egg or cheese with a ferocious determination to make sure the dishes were scrubbed off to be stacked and reorganized. He recognized a couple of his new teammates peeling potatoes in another part of the kitchen when he walked in. Guess it took a lot to feed this many students.

By the end of his shift, Rory’s hands ached. He pulled off the yellow rubber gloves he had been wearing and rested them on the edge of the large sink area, stalking towards the exit. He had already been walking back to his room when he looked down to realize he was still wearing a black rubber apron. He quickly ran back to the kitchen, bursting in and throwing the apron over one of the hooks as he grabbed his blazer. He had changed into the fashionable jacket and was nearly out the door again when he heard a small thud, turning around to see the apron had fallen to the ground. With a small grunt and a few extra seconds spent gingerly returning the apron to its appropriate hook, Rory was back out racing for the intake house to grab his gym bag. [hr]

Rory stood in front of the rock climbing wall, taking a deep breath as he looked up at the intimidating climb. He double checked his harness, and dipped his hands into a small bag of chalk and rubbed his palms together to spread out the chalk. He took a few deep breaths as he tried to parse out the best path up, before just shaking his head and beginning his climb. The beginning was easy, as he steadily got a few feet off the ground without much pause between each step up. But as Rory looked above him for an easy handhold, he found the grips were all spaced farther out. He stretched out one arm, fumbling as he kept stretching farther to clasp one of the grips. His fingers just barely caught on to one, and his muscles ached as he began to shift his weight. He lifted a foot up to latch on to one of the grips, only to feel his foot give way as his shoe failed to gain the right traction. Rory hung for only a second before his outstretched hand’s grip gave way, and his body dropped slightly. His remaining hand grip wasn’t strong enough to keep him upheld, so Rory dropped a couple feet before the harness caught him. Rory looked down to see he was barely hovering off the ground, and sighed as he was lowered down by gym staff the rest of the way. Rory quickly assured them he was fine, and ready to try again. [hr]

Rory rushed into the stadium nosebleeds, smelling faintly of peach scented soap and his hair clearly still wet, as the assembly was starting. The call to stand for the Canadian national anthem made Rory feel at ease and helped him blend in, despite the stern looks from faculty manning the doors as he entered just as things were starting. He mumbled along with the national anthem softly as he quickly grabbed the nearest sea near the few faces he recognized, each sporting the signature “blackjack” armbands. He tried his best to pay attention to the boring speeches, but quickly grew bored of the presentation. He began tapping his right index and right thumb together, trying to match the cadence of the voices that practically droned in his head. Before long, he was startled to hear everyone beginning to stand up… along with a few interjections:

[Color=B8860B]“.. how many of us WILL you be sacrificing to your gods in this thing for a good harvest this year?”[/color]

[color=D90037]“Look, everyone, at the [i]cool[/i] boy challenging the system. He’s so edgy. No one’s evah thought to do that before! Fuckin’ wanker.”[/color]

Rory felt his body immediately tense up, innately feeling the tension begin to boil. Banjo’s outburst didn’t make much sense to him: there were gods at this school? Rory had read some book back in middle school about something kind of like that. It would be cool of his teachers were gods. But he didn’t like the idea of getting sacrificed to one of them. Rory also didn’t recall gods being mentioned in Harry Potter.

[color=8AACEB]“Hey, they may have said it. But we were all thinking it.”[/color]

Rory’s brow furrowed. What were they all thinking? Did everyone else know about the gods? Was Rory the only one who hadn’t put together the pieces?

[color=008000]“Hey all! Looks like we’re teammates. I hope we don’t actually have to play cards. I’m much more of a soccer guy myself.”[/color]

[color=F796A9]“Yeah, everyone, let’s all hold hands and sing Kumbaya together.”[/color]

Rory smiled slightly at Calliope’s “suggestion,” completely dodging the sarcasm with the expert precision of someone far too excited at the thought of having some actual friends for once. He called out as people began to disperse. [color=FFF200]”Calliope is right… maybe some ice breakers would help!”[/color] He shot a sincere smile to whatever teammates weren’t rushing away, but couldn’t help but to feel a bit dejected at the shift in mood. Trace was gone, as was Calliope. Cassander had left as well, while Katja and Haleigh seemed to be having a bit of a moment. Rory turned his gaze to Trevor in particular, walking over to his new teammate and slapping a hand on his shoulder. [color=FFF200]”Calliope is right, Kumbaya might be a better warm up activity… whatever that is. I’m totally down to play soccer, but I don’t think that would be best for… well… [i]all[/i] of us, you know?”[/color] Rory tilted his head slightly in the direction of Haleigh and Katja, a warm smile still plastered on his face.

Rory watched as more people were funneling out of the stadium, and quickly patted Trevor one last time on the shoulder in reassurance. [color=FFF200]”I’m gonna head back to the intake house and get changed. I’ll meet you there, man.”[/color][/INDENT][/INDENT]
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