[COLOR=GRAY][hr][CENTER][img]https://i.imgur.com/4LAnNWx.png[/img][/CENTER][indent][sub][COLOR=#D90037][B]Location:[/B][/COLOR] [I]Northern Cove - Dundas Islands, Pacific Ocean[/I][/sub][sup][right][COLOR=#D90037][b]First Class #2.36a:[/b][/COLOR] [I]Every Decision Hurts[/I][/right][/sup][/indent][sub][hr][/sub][INDENT][sub][color=#D90037][B]Interaction(s):[/B][/COLOR] [I]None[/I][/sub][SUP][RIGHT][COLOR=#D90037][b]Previously:[/b][/COLOR] [I]When Democracy is Totalitarian[/I][/right][/SUP]
[INDENT]Jonas spoke, and it mostly came out as garbled speech to Trace. They didn’t care. Offer your condolences, offer your sadness, and offer your support—in the end, what had you done to help any of them? It all hurt, and it all felt branded onto their skin, along with some new lacerations. Trace tried not to look at Haleigh, Luce, or the like. Yet, they also thought of Katja. Warm, strong Katja went out of her way to make them feel normal and loved. Heat welled up in their chest at that thought. And for some reason, they thought about Rory. He was sweet. He was calm. He was the moral compass of the group despite probably not knowing what compasses were or how they worked. But then there was Banjo, and that was a confusing mixture of emotions that Trace didn’t care to unpack. They still didn’t [i]like[/i] him, but they felt that if he was left to his own devices, he’d “Mac and Me” into the ocean without much hesitation. He really needed to learn to shut up.

Yet, what haunted Trace the most wasn’t the moment that Cass’s lost the light in his eyes as his soul fluttered off to another plane of existence, but instead the vitriol that the remaining members looked at them with. Trace didn’t want to diminish Cass’s sacrifice, but they didn’t feel good in the skin they wore around those people. The old saying that went something like, “conflict makes you stronger and complacency makes you weaker,” didn’t consider when that conflict bore down on your mental health. Trace could get their mission done without them, but they would lose a few resources that would be helpful. It was a hard decision, and everything about it felt like someone had lanced fishing hooks behind their eyes and pulled. 

The crowd around Trace ate at them like ants tearing off pieces of bread and hauling them away. They’d received their invitations, they’d received their armbands, and they stood in line with their fellow teammates. A long sigh left their lips as they fiddled with the papers, they were becoming hot and sticky underneath the unbearable sun. Trace had their black umbrella tucked underneath their arm as they were submerged so far into thought that the idea of holding a single item that wasn’t their future was exasperating.

That’s when the countdown began. Anxiety ripped at the hooks, and it felt like action would calm it down. “One” was announced, and Trace stood there and glanced at the Blackjack team around them. It was hard to want to leave.  Cass’s face was somewhere behind their eyes, sharing his story around the campfire. Trace hadn’t paid him much attention, but that didn’t mean that they had forgotten him so easily. Yet, whatever they did, didn’t mean that his memory would evaporate. It was still warm there. And they feared if enough fear and anger were applied to it, it’d turn cold and distant. Trace wouldn’t want to return to it.

So, Trace stepped forward, not looking back as they did so. In their right hand was Team Firebird, and in their left was Team Eclipse. They could do this without all the hate. Maybe distancing themselves from the overwhelming negativity would help them achieve what they believed to be their [i]raison d'etre[/i].                                                                                                                                                                                                                  [/INDENT][/INDENT][hr][/COLOR]

[COLOR=GRAY][hr][CENTER][img]https://i.imgur.com/v71QiBN.png[/img][/CENTER][indent][sub][COLOR=#B7EB6F][B]Location:[/B][/COLOR] [I]Pacific Royal Collegiate & University - Southern Plateau, Dundas Island[/I][/sub][sup][right][COLOR=#B7EB6F][b]First Class: # 2.36b:[/b][/COLOR] [I]Show Them That Song and Dance[/I][/right][/sup][/indent][sub][hr][/sub][INDENT][sub][color=#B7EB6F][B]Interaction(s):[/B][/COLOR] [I]Yuri [@Wei Wuxian][/I][/sub][SUP][RIGHT][COLOR=#B7EB6F][b]Previously:[/b][/COLOR] [I]Press 'F' to Pay Respects[/I][/right][/SUP]
[INDENT]Coop angled his chin down towards his neck as he wondered what the hell he was doing here. It was an unflattering face, but it was one that he made when he didn’t want any attention brought onto him. He then searched around for the cameras, trying to find them amidst all the pomp and circumstance. Were they all being “Truman Show”ed? This didn’t feel real. It felt overly staged, and he glanced down for a marker. There was no taped ‘x’ on the ground alerting him to that. When he was handed his envelope with the houses and armband, they felt like props. Yet, his eyes focused on the Blackjack logo. It’d been the one that Calliope was wearing.

That’d been a nice moment of reprieve from all this nonsense and horror. Something that wasn’t so overwhelming. Yet, that entire group seemed like a few sticks of dynamite short of an explosion. Just from the moment that he’d spent standing by them, he’d bristled. His mother always remarked that he was a bit of an empath, and he didn’t know how he felt about that. But at that moment, he’d agree. He could feel every coal in that group being stoked like someone was drunk with a fire poker. But Calliope had been a fresh, cool wave.  Someone to remind him that he wasn’t alone in all this “military school for super kids” malarkey. 

When the countdown began, Coop quickly shifted his armbands around and stuck his invitations in his pocket. He hadn’t even had the time to glance at them. Honestly, it’d probably just boil down to what he thought was the coolest animal out of the three. What color would accent his eyes and hair the best? He could then work backward with house loyalty. It was easy to be a house cheerleader when the outfit looked snappy.

He stepped forward when the number counted down. In his right hand was Team Blackjack, and in his left was Team Firebird. He wasn’t about to try it with yet a third team he knew nothing about. [COLOR=#B7EB6F]“No offense guys,”[/COLOR] he quickly said over his shoulder. [COLOR=#B7EB6F]“It’s just one of my friends is over there, and I just [i]need[/i] some normalcy in this banana-coo-coo-insanity. I’m sure you get me.”[/COLOR] He winked at Yuri. [COLOR=#B7EB6F]“Stay sexy.”[/COLOR][/INDENT][/INDENT][/COLOR][hr]