[hr][hr][center][img]https://i.postimg.cc/SR52k84p/54b4e63d635603b22d80f72a4ba2be54.png[/img][hr][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/019c02b1-4686-759e-93a8-ec58d0ea6ae8.webp[/img][hr][@Achronum][@Blizz][@Forsythe][@Kirah][@PatientBean][@Trainerblue192][hr][h3][color=AC3EFF][b]Morning - Sat. January 15th, 2039 - Los Angeles, California[/b][/color][/h3][/center][hr]

[@Trainerblue192][@Kirah]: “This [i]is[/i] a school for heroes - and that is quite enough of that,” a voice admonished them all sharply, without any clear direction that the voice originated from. Instead, the four wayward children would find themselves bound in place, rich tendrils of red and purple, twinkling as if formed from stars, ensnared around them. These tendrils focused on the limbs of the students, loose grips that would tighten as they struggled. And a moment later, their caster stepped into view, the bindings on Ben loosening whereas the ones on the other students remained tight and constrictive. 

Dressed in her signature scarlet, her tiara traded for earmuffs, Wanda Maximoff pursed her lips in disapproval. “Andy, I expected more from you than childish squabbles.” She held her sister’s gaze for a moment longer, before her eyes flashed over to Gideon and Chase. “You may have your toys back at the end of day,” she then added, snapping her fingers - and Gideon’s sword, as well as Chase’s shadowy constructs, vanished. “And you will [i]all[/i] be serving detention with me Monday evening,” she clarified. “There are flowers that rarely bloom on Mount Wundagore and are said to be best found by newfound friends, so I would be glad of your assistance.”

Gideon’s eyes widened, as her sword dematerialized - the sword she had been carrying around for years, the sword she had trained with, the sword she labored for. “I need that back, now!” she protested. “And these assholes deserved it because… well look at him, he [i]looks[/i] evil!” she huffed, pointing at Chase with her thumb. 

“I do not want to hear it,” Wanda warned. “Continue to argue and I will take more than just your weapon.”

[@PatientBean][@Blizz]: At the ice skating rink, Jyoti was seething - yet she knew better than to make a scene right now. Sabine might have done a somewhat relevant livestream, yes - but it wouldn’t be enough to stop the inevitable. She’d made her fame and fortune off of ridiculing and bullying others, and the Internet was both forever and a place where nuance went to die. If she wanted to play this game of the reformed villain, then [i]fine[/i]. Jyoti would give her some actual sins to be dragged over the coals for. 

“If we could all only be as fucking [i]perfect[/i] as you,” Jyoti hissed. “Show them your true self, Sabine. I’m sure nothing could go wrong with that. I bet you’re not even really French,” she tossed her hair over her shoulder in a huff, before storming off. She needed to film some content before the Luna Snow concert anyway. 

[@PatientBean][@Blizz][@Forsythe]: “Aye, thank ye!” Bitterfinger beamed, a soft blush on her face as Marlena complimented her braids. “For the moment, I’m proposin’ that we are in a league with other super schools - let people use their natural powers and show the world what we can do. The school’s claimed there just ain’t enough interest in sports, so the petition is to show them that us lassies, we [i]want[/i] to be out there on the ice - we want to put the puck in the net and beat the living crap out of anyone who looks at us wrong when we’re skatin’,” she explained. 

“You find anyone else who wants to sign, you send them to ole Bitterfinger, understood?” she then requested. “I’m going to go look for easy marks at the friendship bracelet station. All that rage over those beads, someone is bound to want to blow off some steam,” she mused, as she took the clipboard back once her petition had been signed, and headed off. 

[hr][hr][center][h3][b][color=ed1c24]Percy Novikov[/color][/b][/h3][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/019b29ec-87e6-745e-afed-c64ed081c458.webp[/img]
[hr][b][color=ed1c24]Location:[/color][/b] Margaret Carter - Stark Hall Roof -> Winter Festival 
[b][color=ed1c24]Magic Items:[/color][/b] Mystery watch from Agatha Harkness, Dorian sex bracelet
[b][color=ed1c24]First Day Fit:[/color][/b] [url=https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/019c0287-4435-7608-82b5-0b29272f9040.webp]Black Hoodie, Jeans, and Vans[/url] [hr][/center]Percy took the ice slide down from the roof of Stark Hall, intent on depositing him back at the hot chocolate stand where the disastrous chain of events had begun. His eyes were red and puffy, the texts in his phone having gone unanswered, and his mind kept on running the numbers on how long he’d have to last until the next safe moment - how many minutes until the carnival had ended, how many hours, how many seconds. If he could make it five minutes, then he could do ten - if he could do ten, he could do twenty, and so on and so on until he had almost convinced himself he could last the entire day, that his time back at Margaret Carter hadn’t been a disaster since his moms pulled into the parking garage. 

But as he was about to reach the bottom of the ice slide, he saw a situation he absolutely could [i]not[/i] stomach. It was barely a conscious thought, as blue wisps radiated off of his hands, and he blinked out of existence, appearing on the opposite end of the carnival field. He wasn’t at any station in particular, instead finding himself sitting on a bench, with a perfect vantage point of his classmates as they built snowmen, skated in the makeshift rink, and lobbed snowballs at each other like it was war. He couldn’t see the hot cocoa stand from here but his pulse had still quickened, his breath coming out short and quick. Was this what it was going to be like for the rest of his time at school - constantly running into Chase, constantly faced with reminders of the past? 

His stomach churned as he pulled his knees to his chest, trying to count his breaths - trying to focus on his immediate surroundings, rather than let his thoughts run wild. But he couldn’t shake the feelings of danger, of peril - couldn’t stop his mind from going back to Gates, from remembering every locker, every trash scan - every punch, every bruise. Maybe he ought to ask his moms to transfer him after all, maybe the Future Foundation school in New York wasn’t that bad, he could go and live with his mame while she worked at Columbia, and Dorian was about to graduate anyway. He had a few friends now, but that was what letters were for, right? Yes, it was a plan he hated, but he could live with it. He could deal with it. Maybe he’d finally have a chance to develop all of these cold weather skills his boyfriend thought he lacked. Maybe he’d change his name, too - erase any trail that he left behind, make it impossible for Chase to find him. He could dye his hair - try to grow some facial hair. It was insane, he knew, but he was going to [i]go[/i] insane if he couldn’t stop - if he couldn’t outrun - if he couldn’t… 

He’d seen Chase, dripping in shadows, armed with armor and a sword - and as much as he had told Chase they could try, all he’d seen was how much more dangerous he’d become. All he’d imagined was Chase running him through with that sword, walking away with a laugh as Percy bled out, complaining that he was bored of that old toy, anyway. 

He curled into himself a little more, as his body shook. He just wanted to go home.