[hr][hr][center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/01989753-c0d4-751e-94b6-ac932f65638b.webp[/img][hr][@Achronum][@Trainerblue192][@Morose][@Blizz][@Kirah][@PatientBean][@Teyao][@KazAlkemi][@kittyluna45][hr][h3][color=57F287][b]Late Morning - Fri. Nov. 1st, 2040 [/b][/color][/h3][/center][hr]


[H1][center][color=Red]The Statue of Ardyon[/color][/center][/h1]
[sub][center]Connie, Barty, Jake[/center][/sub]

“Previous covers have attempted such a thing. The last one sought to map out all the markings and lines, but too many brushes with the statue left two of them dead and another mad. The last sane one opted to resign from school entirely.” Croen offered Barty before turning his attention to Jake. 

“Perhaps. I hadn't met him before his entrapment but it was all for naught; that village no longer stands. A flood three years later wiped it from the face of the earth. His sacrifice offered them some time, but was the cost worth it?” Croen looked down at Connie. “And your scribbling, Ms. Winterhop? What sense are you making in your hesitancy?”


[H1][center][color=magenta]A Trip through Magic[/color][/center][/h1]
[sub][center]Willow, Nicky, Callaghan, Cassiopeia[/center][/sub]

Nicholas raised an eyebrow as his question was avoided. Clearly, Cal didn't care to include their new colleagues in this - strange for a shifter who loved community and sharing. Cal's defenses were up and that meant Nicholas was on the line for soothing down his scales. Nicholas only nodded as Cal divided out tasks, eyes drifting down and up the shifter. Nicholas took in the marks they'd left on him last night and he felt heat simmer low in his belly at the thought. Maybe a distraction would calm him. Nicholas certainly wouldn't mind being caught in the stacks.

Nicholas followed him into Language, a soft caress along Cal's arm reassuring him he was here to listen and he leaned against the bookshelf. [color=5b8a9a]“Strange behavior from a strange man. Most people would write it off as his eccentricities. Why aren't you?”[/color]

The walk from Astronomy to Language wasn't short by any means, but the bend and shift of the hallways made it seem longer. Various students and teachers passed by, a quick hi or a nod before they scurried on with their own studies, and finally the plaque could be seen in the distance. 

The journal of Kramer was a beat up, torn book. A quick flip through showed neat, tidy hand writing revolving into crazies, frantic handwriting in symbols and shapes that blurred the longer one looked at it. It was warm to the touch and the faint smell of brimstone wafted from it. 

 
[H1][center][color=gold]Into the Unknow[/color][/center][/h1]
[sub][center]Rohan, Finley/Dysphoria, Frankie, Annika[/center][/sub]

Dysphoria held their ground at Rohan's not so veiled implications, Finley cradled carefully inside them. They did not care for what was in the woodling. It had tried to snatch their Darling from them and Dysphoria trembled with the effort it took not to pounce. But Finley's reassurance and warmth settled them enough to painstakingly retract, revealing Finley to the room once more. Dysphoria's tendrils were still wrapped around the Fey at odd intervals, almost flat to skin, and Dysphoria nuzzled into the crook of Finley's neck. [color=F739D7]“Neither chains of magic nor might will hold you as long as I am here.”[/color] Dysphoria promised, almost mullishly at their claim being challenged. [color=F739D7]“Darling, may we find some time alone today?”[/color]