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Miry furrowed her brow inquisitively, processing the language. It lacked many of the phonetic groupings she’d expect of a drakkan derivate, fewer of the harsh x and k sounds and had many more long vowels than expected, though it possessed the same propensity of z sounds and other fuzzy voiced consonants. If it was a derivate, it was surely long-distant, and likely blended with a few other languages besides.

She was so intent on puzzling out the sound of it that she nearly missed Zak’s questions. She considered for a moment, eventually signing something to the effect of ’water, please, if it’s not too much trouble’ before turning to regard the other old Drakkan, blinking confusedly at the promise of tea.

She hadn’t thought tea plants grew on this side of the spine.

Lord Zakroti’s retinue was... particularly diverse, to put it delicately. Miry had never seen anyone like - Gaikus, was the name Zakroti had given - nor even read of them in books. She resisted the urge to metaphorically pounce on the old man and interrogate him about his homeland, visibly wringing her hands and chewing on her lip in thought.

Nenra blinked at Zakroti’s sudden jovial manner. “I’m certain it’s - of considerable boredom for you,” she replied, a faint bitterness sneaking back into her tone. “You noble sorts don’t often bother with the likes of us. Corn and wheat from the human lands, and pearlpeas and lady’s fingers, fields as far as the eye can see, but nothing else of note - well, the plague. Even our lord and lady don’t send folk to collect the tithe anymore.” The laugh that escaped her was a bitter one, though she soon brightened again. “It’s just us, on occasion family from the nearby city, and on occasion we go there to sell our produce and so on. It’s dull, to some, but we make the most of it.”

At the offer of a drink, she paused. Wine was all well and good, though she easily got drunk on it, as much from a lack of taste for it as anything. Her family, and indeed everyone in the village, made a variety of fruit-and-grain drinks, using really whatever was on hand at the time, so that they could be enjoyed all year; she’d grown quite used to a healthy amount of it, to cut the heat and dryness after a day in the field. But those drinks they made at home were all quite easy to hold, easy enough for even the youngest of children to drink freely; gin, she knew, was somewhat less palatable.

She decided that, while she could easily ride a horse while (at least mildly) intoxicated, it was far better to keep her wits and balance around her while on a mount she didn’t understand.

And while in the presence of drakken.

“I’ll just take water, as well,” she finally said, automatically getting up to retrieve it for herself before she realized that she had no idea how, or even who, to assist. After a moment, she sat down again, coughing lightly to hide her embarrassment.
Sweetheart omg I love her. Go ahead and move her over 💖 @canaryrose
GM Post
Time: 4:50 PM, Monday, 23rd August 2032
Location: Campus Commons; the Welcome Back Banquet
Interacting: Everyone

Warm afternoon sunlight flickered in through tall trees, creating a dappled pattern of light and shadow across well-manicured lawns and flagstone pathways. The air was warm, with just a faint touch of crispness hinting at the fall to come. The commons of campus, a large open area connecting a mix of buildings both modern and classical in design, was full of a good number of people, idly waiting for friends or striking up conversations with new acquaintances.

On one stretch of pathway stood a line of hastily-arranged picnic tables, topped with cheap tablecloths and a wide array of food-warmers and serving bowls full of chips, fruit, and cookies, staffed by a variety of smiling kitchen help. Many of these workers recognized the students who hovered around the line, asking about summer vacations and other lighthearted subjects while good-naturedly shooing them away from the food – the banquet was not to start until 5pm precisely.

It was going to be a good school year. Today, the first day of classes, had gone smoothly… as smoothly as the first day of courses could be expected to go, at least. There were about three thousand, five hundred students on this side of the campus, more or less evenly divided between the high school and college levels. As with most years, nearly a third of these students were new to the grounds, which was often a recipe for disaster. Unlike most years, however, the Institute had successfully made it through the entirety of move-in week and the first day of classes, all without a single Star-mark-related incident. Sure, there had been a few of the more ordinary sort of disagreement, roommate squabbles about bunks and the all-too-common homesickness, but none of the more newsworthy sorts.

All of the faculty were certainly glad about that; the fewer newsworthy scenes on campus this year, the better.

As the crowd of students continued to gather, approaching the full population of campus – the dining hall was closed for the banquet, and most students weren’t about to turn down free food – various senior student leaders (Identifiable by their tacky “Hello, my name is…” nametags, and equally-tacky Welcome Week tee-shirts) began to make their way around the edges of the crowd, gathering up students who looked like they might be a little bit lost or overwhelmed and striking up conversations with them. It was going to be better than home, they all promised – everyone was here to help them be their best, and if they had any questions, they just needed to ask, either any of them or the faculty. It was all going to be okay.



Time: 4:55 PM, Monday.
Location: Campus Commons; Welcome Banquet
Interacting: Anyone coming from class!

Phoenix disdainfully adjusted the blazer jacket he wore, prying it away from the clingy, cheap t-shirt for what felt like the millionth time. He’d signed on to be an RA, and a Welcome Leader (vomit noises) besides, but he’d still rather show up to the banquet naked than in a shirt this tacky. After much pleading and cajoling, the others had agreed to let him wear a blazer to at least have some hope of saving the outfit.

His fiery hair very much stood out like a beacon, especially paired with the flame-orange shirt he’d been forced into, and several of the freshmen he’d helped find classes caught sight of him even across the field, waving to him giddily. He smiled back, inclining his head, but didn’t wave – he never waved to people.

After locking eyes with several of the other welcome leaders, and knowing they had the crowd well in hand, he positioned himself on the main path between the classroom buildings and the commons, hoping to catch any stragglers. He adjusted his blazer yet again, putting a pleasant smile on his face, and awaited the new students.
@Blizz Accepted, go ahead and move her over - in a hider please. ty.
@Exit always accepting does mean always accepting <3 I hope that we’ll see you soon. :D
Alrighty, while I’m working on the IC post, friendly reminder to @RumikoOhara , @Exit, @Ghost Note, @Mistress Dizzy and @SpeakNoEvil - no rush on your sheets, I just wanted to make sure y’all found the thread okay and let you know that if you have any questions or if there’s anything I can help y’all with to get your sheets in, I’m here <3 I look forward to seeing your chars!
*rolls*
I'll start writing IC posts tomorrow, I think. Anyone else have questions I can answer?
Nenra gave a grin that might be considered vaguely feral. “Not bookish by any means, no,” she replied, belatedly tacking on a “my lord” at the end. She shifted uncomfortably under his piercing, reptilian gaze.

“My family?” A light laugh bubbled out from her chest, surprising her. Just the thought evoked enough joy to get her to laugh, evidently. “We do what we can, but there’s little that three hundred farmers can do against a Drakken warband.” She referred to the entire population of her village here, referring to the close-knit community as a sort of family. “Those of us who were taken – myself and four of my cousins, and eight others besides – went willingly. Of course we did; fighting back is the surest way to get your family killed.” She said it matter-of-factly, bitterness clouding her words. They’d all heard of the towns who’d fought back. Every woman of marryable age was taken, anyone who stood between the lords and their prizes cut down like corn in the fields.

She perked up slightly when Zakroti mentioned a gardener. Presumably, to have a gardener, they had to have a garden. She tried not to let her interest show through too much, of course. She was here, that was fine, but she wasn’t supposed to be happy about it.
Miry giggled nervously when Zak mentioned people of different form and stature. Presumably he wasn’t just speaking of humans, though they were odd themselves – somewhere between Drakkan and Gem in stature and form, built on a set of proportions that couldn’t agree, and, though less all-consumed with rage than the drakkan were, still constantly at war with each other over differences in appearance and language and faith. Miry couldn’t fathom it; she thought humans might be the very furthest thing imaginable from her own people.

But after the incident with the mounts (she turned warily to regard the creatures again at the thought) she was not about to make the same mistake with people, too. She tried to keep an open mind, wracking her brain for any mention of the city he’d mentioned, because if she knew the place she might have an idea of the sorts of people – and surely, if there was a reference anywhere in the library, she might’ve heard of it, or at least seen a reference number for the place on the grand map that occupied the entire front wall of the main level of archives…

She vaguely conjured an image of brackish water, marble pillars, and little green creatures, amphibious beings with a simple intelligence and language with no written form.

Miry wasn’t certain, but the name did have a vaguely familiar sound. It was likely not the name she knew the place by, but that was why the archive had used reference numbers in annotated manuscripts – all names of the place referred back to the grand map, and to a list of all the possibly-associated names or names from older empires. The system did the best it could to eliminate confusion, though of course was not entirely successful. And she was by no means the master of it, not yet, at least. She was certain she hadn’t known a hundredth of the relevant information contained in their archive; even her aunt, at nearly 50 – and twenty years the warden – was regularly surprised by the sheer quantities of information she’d not even known existed prior to pulling a book.

Miry tittered nervously at the implication – was there an implication? She couldn’t even be certain of that – of “becoming well acquainted”. This was the life she’d been given over into, and she would make the best she could of it, but – she was still terrified of what that might entail.

She wrapped her arm tighter around Zak’s, leaning her head against his shoulder.

After a moment of reflection, deciding that the knot of fear wound in her stomach was not going to let her enjoy much more of the stew (which was, admittedly, growing on her), she retrieved the half-eaten bowl and - after one more bite - emptied the rest of its contents into Zak's bowl, signing that he’d probably find more use for the nourishment than she would.
@VoiD Hey not a problem! I'm thinking I'm gonna give it another day or so to get more of the folks from the interest check over here - once we have maybe like 7 or so sheets I'll get the IC up? I'm not sure to be honest, we'll see how the rest of today goes :D
@SpeakNoEvil Great question! Usually, it's been observed to be a pretty quick flipping between white and black in the aftermath of a particular traumatic incident, but not always. (My character Echo's stars only half-changed, but are now lightening again, for example.) You totally can do a slower changing Star if you want! Just know that they might be under particular scrutiny from the doctors and headmaster because it is a rather nontypical response. If you're good with that, absolutely go right ahead! :D
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