Jonathan stood and gave Freyja and Yuki a short bow. He was still reeling from the idea that Yuki could be a teacher - and that he was a 'lord' - was this really a guy? Or was this all just some sort of elaborate prank? He didn't put it past the Institute's staff to try to have some fun with that sort of thing, if the previous year was anything to go by. Still, best to introduce himself. He
had been asked his name, after all. He would have extended his hand for a handshake, but basic hygiene told him that most people didn't appreciate that sort of thing when he had any amount of dried blood on his hands.
"Jonathan Walker. I've been here for roughly a year and a half, training under Professors Pavlov and Khan. I'm pleased to meet you, Professors Leden and Hisakawa."Alexei Pavlov was, so far, one of his favorite teachers partially because he had the chance to go all-out while sparring. Habib Khan was until the end of last year his
least favorite teacher, and thankfully, Khan had retired to return home to his family overseas. The man was very strict and very much into the 'textbook method' of teaching Alternate channelers. Hopefully Jonathan wouldn't need to take any more 'textbook' type Chanelling courses this year -- while he hated Khan's classes, Khan had successfully taught him the precise
nature of his own power. Understanding one's power was the first step to learning how to use it, and now that that was over, Jonathan felt as though he were ready to move to more creative outlets for it.
Ryuuto had decided to wander off, no doubt to meet some of the less explosive students. To each their own. Jonathan stayed standing to get a better view of what was about to happen.
@Hammerman@Cu Chulainn
"Doesn't really matter how the school is hidden. Could be invisible, could be a magical fuckin' sky castle, could be underground. Hell, we could all just be having a really weird dream, courtesy of that creepy old man over there," Brock said, lazily rolling a coin about between his fingers. At 'old man', he jabbed a thumb towards Daler Ghumman, who was again fast asleep in his golf cart. Daler had been the one to retrieve him from the Chicago Corrections Department after his sentencing to probation and rehabilitation at the Institute. Brock had also caught the monotonous, borderline icy tone of Daisuke. Trey, from his old gang, was the same sort of guy. Didn't seem to like his intellect being insulted one bit. That little tidbit went down in his repertoire of ammunition.
"Either way, man," he continued,
"doesn't matter how it works. They're not about to tell us and we'll see soon enough."@Mercurial@blumenk@Cu Chulainn
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