Yrhen noticed a distinct lack of icy rain hitting her head and back as it was quite sudden and not gradual. Curious, she looked up, only to see the rivulets starting to form thin waterfalls in midair.
What is that? A solid magical dome or water flow control magic? She neither saw nor heard the groundskeeper approach, such was her fascination and certainty that she was alone.
Hearing the voice Yrhen let out a short gasp and shot to her feet. She turned to the speaker and delivered a sharp salute, just as her grandparents, retired military themselves, had taught her. Her reflexive reaction did not seem misplaced when she saw the man that had addressed her. Older, but still with brightly colored red hair. Hunched and using a cane, but towering and fit and undoubtedly an experienced mage. A mage with a sharp eye, assessing her as she assessed him. He seemed to be the groundskeeper from what he said, but from what she saw such a title seemed too simplistic, she would have guessed him to be one of the professors.
"I was trying to analyze the magic behind the flora's preservation, sir. I mean, I think they are very aesthetically pleasing, and I think student's morale will be higher overall for the work you've done here. Yuck. I sound like one of those snotty elitists. Is it ok to say what I really think? If I don't behave or give the answers expected of me... But this is one of the staff here. He may already know about me. And besides, what artist doesn't want to know their work is appreciated? If we're alone it should be OK, just this once.She looked all around, making sure no one else was in earshot or even within sight, then made her decision. She moved closer to the man so he could better hear her as she whispered.
"They're... abolutely gorgeous. Sir."Upon hearing the entrance examinations would be starting soon she gratefully accepted the offered nutrition bars, and reverted back to her usual serious demeanor.
"Yes sir!" She snapped another salute at the groundskeeper before picking up her bag and following his lead. She was glad he had been here, she had no idea where she was supposed to be.
A real breakfast would have been nice. Oh well, I should be grateful I got anything at all with how things turned out. I wonder what kinds of things they serve at a prestigious school like this? Must be nutritious at least, military soldiers and magic users alike use a lot of energy, right? I just hope it's nothing to bland or artificial tasting. I wonder if they'll have-Her train of thought was completely derailed as she unwrapped and bit into the allegedly fruit flavored bar. Her stern expression soured notably as the flavor assaulted her unprepared taste buds. In the end, she was happy to not immediately choke or spit it out. A look of grim determination settled on her face as she chewed, forced herself to swallow, and took another bite.
I swear to all that is worth a damn in this world, I will never let myself be late for a meal again.
The Written Exam
Having arrived so late walking into the room for the written exam when everyone else was already seated was nerve-wracking enough; never mind the fact that she was not very accomplished academically. Fortunately it seemed the groundskeeper took the time to explain things to their current instructor, a woman who looked terribly intimidating with little effort. She took one of the few remaining seats silently, staring straight ahead and not meeting anyone's eyes. She resisted the urge to look around and mentally braced herself She noted the instructions on the board and got right to work, forcing her face to remain calm and unemotional.
The test itself was about as grueling as she expected; there were very few questions she could answer confidently. On top of this some of the questions seemed a little off or had small errors in how they were worded. She answered these as best she could but her already limited confidence was used up quickly. Then came the essay. She had expected to have to explain why she wanted to be a mage, and a military mage at that. Military life was not easy or pleasant and more was expected of a professional magic user than the common soldier. Thus she had thought long and hard about her answer, and she often recited it in her head. An essay would just be a more detailed version of that and so she got started on it right after the last question, not waiting a beat.
Halfway through she suddenly stopped writing, and stared at the words she had written.
In order to protect those that cannot protect themselves, and to uphold the values of our great nation... Now that I look at it on paper it all feels so... plastic. She scratched out everything she had written so far and flipped the paper over. Using her arm to cover her paper from any potential wandering eyes she began again.
Seven months ago I was standing on the edge of a cliff, wondering if I would feel my bones shatter the instant before I died---
Unknown location 30 mins from Mordhaben's Institute
With the mentally and emotionally taxing written test complete Yrhen had made it a point to be one of the first in line for the next test. She also made a point of ignoring every other student that came near her, repelling conversation with an especially intense scowl. It seemed to work, much to her relief, no one so much as sat in the seat next to her. That and the unexpected pleasure of the busride through the countryside did wonders for her frayed nerves. By the time she filed off the bus to follow the unusually garbed professor Brovak she felt much better.
She shifted a few feet to the right when everyone was told to form two lines, and she listened very carefully as professor Brovak spoke. She couldn't help but to feel hopeful to hear there was a higher chance of applicants passing this year. Even if this test was going to be harsh she felt this was going to be her best chance at passing. She was fairly sure she had flunked the written test despite her best efforts.
Of course now there was the matter of forming teams with the others. This, too, she had known to expect. Teamwork was an essential skill to learn in most professions, and in particular the military. If she was lucky her skill set would land her the role of sniper scout and she could operate mostly solo. But even then she would still need to know how to function as part of a team. And of course she had to actually qualify for Mordhaben's Institute in the first place, and that meant performing well in this potentially dangerous team exercise.
Doesn't mean I have to like it. As if that's worth anything..She scanned through the people around her, finally assessing her peers properly. Within moments she did not like what she saw. The few that might meet her standards of a potential bearable teammate all had something about them she didn't like upon closer inspection. There was a really tall guy that she could provide covering fire for if he was willing to take point. But he smiled way,
way too much and was too friendly by far for her liking. There was a sharply dressed boy with glasses and a deck of cards who looked far too smug for his own good. There was a very pretty and
very pale girl who she couldn't actually read very well, but there was something sly about that one that raised a major red flag. Another red flag was from someone that otherwise looked like a good choice for a teammate. Again it was a subtle look in the eyes that made her wary. Also the more she looked at him the more ill fitting his clothes seemed on certain parts of his body. Ultimately the dark, brooding boy reminded her of herself.
That's not s good thing. At all. Wait! That one there, not too dark, not too bright, relaxed.. honestly his whole body language reminds me of my grandfather. He's fit and as much as a look can tell I get a sense of competence from him. Maybe I should grab him before someone else does- Oh. Why are his eyes so red? Has he been... crying? Maybe not as good a choice as I thought. Hm.And then one boy caught her attention hard. Not because he was a good potential teammate, but because she recognized him. That was just plain alarming, no terrifying. She remembered where she had seen him. She remembered that day very well. The day she bought her rifle with her grandfather was one of the happier memories of her life. And he might remember her as well. A dozen possible lies or ways she could avoid this boy flew through her mind. She turned her body, trying to prevent a clear line of sight between him and her rifle. The same rifle the Holliday boy had sold to her last April.
Dammit! I thought I would never see this guy again. What the hell are the odds we'd both end up attending the same school, and worse, the same year? This is terrible...
Maybe he won't notice me?
Member
Spike
Azereiah