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Lorcan watched the small redhead berate him, his expression falling somewhere between neutral amusement and indifference.Part of him would admit to enjoying it, it was rare for people not to recognize him (though, that was more an issue of the constant parade his parents put on for him than anything else) so the lack of realization on the girls part was fairly...novel.That and he'd never been called a beanpole before. That she'd said that insult with such honest venom was frankly hilarious. He would have liked to rebut, but the girl seemed to have exhaust whatever patience she had for him with that little tirade and left with a final barb towards Penjani's state of dress.

"...You know Peni..." Lorcan says watching as the small crowd he'd joined slowly follows what he now assumed to be their leader. "I'm starting to think everyone is entirely too sensitive about a little skin." He adds, just as one of the redheads lackeys stops and hefts her skirt up, a pair of pale pink panties greeting his vision as she stuck her tongue out in an attempt to tease him.

And doing very well at that, a faint flush hitting his face as well as dull confusion washed over him. Penjani quirk her head to the side for a better look before shooting a glare at the girl, promising a swift and painful death and poking her master's back. "I..." He began, eyes leaving the pink embrace alone for want of any other (and less confusing) stimuli. "Am getting so many mixed messages from this morning." He concluded, finally deciding that checking back on his cousin was the best way to quickly forget the mooning.

Isobel seemed to have calmed down, snuggled against Grarves as the after shocks of his tumble began to fade away into his rather short memory. Next to her a young man stood sheepishly, smiling uneasily at his cousin as he spoke. Lorcan's eyes narrowed, his expression becoming grim and analytical as he took a moment to commit the boy's face to memory. He looked...vaguely familiar. His posture was wrong to be a noble though, too unconfident. Too lacking the strength of character (however much faked) that ran through Lorcan's normal circles. Former competitor on the dueling circuits? No. While his movements were deliberate enough they lacked the grace, the boys head bobbing too much as he spoke and arms sometimes going slightly too wide. Training would have knocked those habits out of him.

Regardless, Lorcan made a note to have a...conversation with the young man later. While it was doubtful he was a would be suitor for Isobel, it would be better to make sure. The Mulryans (and by extension, the Brighs) had an image to uphold, and while he was not personally opposed to Isobel taking a paramour from the common folk...It would be better for everyone involved if she avoided those without the proper breeding. If the young mans intentions were totally innocent, then all the better for Lorcan. Today was going to be tiring enough without having to scare away an upstart commoner with more hormones than sense.

Turning his eyes elsewhere he caught sight of Isobel's girl friend from earlier, the small blonde fussing over the rude redhead girls hair and picking debris from it. How any stray leaf had managed to catch itself on the girl was, frankly, questionable. She looked to be manicured to the nines on a daily basis, although the shoes were a bit much. Still, the blonde seemed rather pleased with her assistance, saying something quickly in a voice Lorcan assumed was far too cute for most of the girls in the entourage to compete with (earning the blonde no few small glares from her presumed rivals) before quickly gathering her things.

Speaking of people to meet, he should probably make HER his first target for introduction. Isobel would likely be skipping her classes, and while he relished the idea of joining her, it wouldn't fit his station to do so. And frankly, he probably needed more friends than just his cousin.

Penjani pokes his side once more, demanding the remains of his grapefruit silently. With a small sigh he hads the remainder of the fruit to his summon, the dragon girls maw opening quickly and shoving the whole of the fruit before furiously chewing.

"Come along." He grunted, lifting himself from the seat and heading towards the exit, deciding to skip scolding his summon for her poor manners as she wiped juice dribbling from her chin onto her arm. (Note to self: Give her a wet nap later).

Lady Treeks classroom wasn't really what he was expecting it to be. Lorcan had imagined the class rooms would have some level of familiarity. Ordered rows of chairs and desks in stark sanitation, the cold glow of overhead magitek lighting and the faint smell of nothing mixed with yet more nothing that could only be ascribed to a classroom. What he had not expected was the faint smell of a dozen different teas steeping at once, playing a soft sleepy orchestra of clashing scents. In one inhale you would pass from the feather light tones of a white tea with a raspberry melody to a heady black aroma with full cinnamon brass accompaniment.

The room itself was equally chaotic, a dozen or so dozing summons strewn about the floor like some giddy school girls stuffed toys. Their spark of life only identifiable in the two or three which bounced around, the horseplay too gentle to be their natural inclination. He spoke before he event felt Penjani's excitement bleed over to him through the atmosphere. "No." He said firmly, the purple haired dragon girl beside him deflating as he denied her request before it even happened.

He walks to an empty seat near the front, Penjani following forlornly behind him with a defeated air and a soft pout before taking her place beside him on the floor. "Its only because we don't know the rules yet." Lorcan huffs, offering what little explanation he could to his summon. "Once we know what you're allowed to do and you demonstrate you can behave yourself, you will be allowed to play."

The dragon girl stares up at her summoner with a look sitting between childish annoyance and begrudging acceptance for a moment before crossing her arms and looking away. Glaring at the summoned playthings she'd been denied like a spoiled child, determined to comply to their parents wishes but making it clear they would have a thoroughly miserable time of it.

Lorcan considers threatening to send her back to her realm for a moment before he huffs, knowing it would only make her too upset. Penjani did not like being told no (and to be fair he was rare to do so) and would throw tantrums in her own way when he did, but she would be in tears if he forcibly dismissed her.

"Its bribery then?" He asks, Penjani stopping her pouting to look up at him in confusion. Lorcan slowly reaches into his bag and pulls out a small sketch book and a heavy box of crayons, placing them before the cross legged dragon girl. "I'll let you draw during the lesson. But if you are a distraction or make too much noise, you have to go back home until its over. Deal?" He says softly before Penjani leaps up and wraps her arms around his neck, hugging a quick confirmation before releasing him and setting about her distraction with a happy swish of her tail.

"Next time just nod..." he says, clearing his throat and hoping the teacher would not make any comments about that. ...Or Penjani's clothing. He was liable to say some rather unkind things if someone decided to harass his summon on that point for a third time in one morning. He gives a quick nod to his teacher before pulling out his own supplies.

"Hehehe, stop that!" Odhra said in between stifling involuntary giggles as Sio prodded at him, finally cracking after what felt like the thousandth time. Odhra, being from house Bestia, wasn't really concerned with the behavior. After all, Bestia was the house of BEASTS. A summon trying bites and stings were just as common as sniffing or licking, though perhaps looked on a little less favorably by those outside the house. So as far as the doctor in training was concerned, Sio simply exploring him in what ways she could.

At first it was adorable and Odhra dismissed his summons to reduce his perceived threat, lifting up his arms slightly so the offending ghost could have better access to him, but after a while even he was starting to run out of patience. Not enough to yell at the offending specter of course, he didn't want to risk upsetting her. A summon trying to understand (and get comfortable with) their masters realm was a vital part of the bonding process. Interrupting now would only damage Livia's hard work, or worse! Discourage Sio from exploring further in the future all together!

Thankfully, Livia saved him from the spooky onslaught and he took a moment to catch his breath and shake the giggles out of his system. He takes a seat at once of the desks and mulls over Livia's question for a moment. " Honestly, since I constructed Baily I'm in-between projects. I mostly came to get reference tables from a few medical texts for the metabolization rates of a few chemical compounds for a thing in herbology. Making a generic version of a medication to help reduce the size of kidney stones." he says with a shrug.

"I could always use a text or two on far realm flora and fauna. Useful for my general projects and...been looking for a specimen of spider I interacted with once. Think it might fall outside of house Bestia's domain, to be honest, but its hard to tell. More abstract the realms get the more fuzzy the house lines get, ya know?" he says, writing down the medical texts he needed for Sio to gather.

"So...whats the legend you're looking for?" He asks, leaning forward on the table as Nettle finished giving her own requests. "Eastern empires aren't exactly my forte, especially after finding out most of their medical legends are just snake one case literally." He says, frowning at some of the frankly appalling practices he'd dug up in that short jaunt through history. "But I'm pretty sure its not that. Unless you've got erectile dysfunction. Either way, I'd still be happy to help if you want me to!"

"I am hardly incapable of controlling Penjani." Lorcan explained, examining the child's book neutrally while trying to decide how deeply he could shove it into the soulless automatons nose before it 'died'. That said, the automaton did manage to stir a little more agitation in him than he expected. Probably from his lack of proper sleep. That he enjoyed so blatantly throwing the robots request back in its face was another matter entirely. "Simply refusing to do so for such a trivial matter. I realize that the idea of agency and free will might be a bit beyond the average summon of Machina, but I honestly expected a little more from you sir. Perhaps an upgrade is in order?" He asked, gently putting the book into his backpack along with the few texts he spied among the pile.

"As to the matter of my driver. By definition of a curators position, which you claim to be..." He began noting a soft wilting wind grazing his cheek as he spoke. He takes a step to the left, picking up the final folder for later reference before he continued. "Making the formal request of you IS within your duties as resident site caretaker. If only to assure his presence does not disrupt formal operations." He huffs a small chuckle as Penjani continues to glare at the robot, feeding off his own agitation. He eyes the metal butler with mocking curiosity before finally asking the big question. "Or were you simply not aware such task were also part of your assigned responsibilities?"

He lets the question hold for a moment before shrugging it away. He takes a long protracted moment to examine the pile of collected work sheets, stalling the few seconds he would need before the trap was sprung. "As for the materials I requested, this will do nicely. Though I should mention that the reason I requested they be delivered to my room was-" Lorcan was cut off by a heavy gust of window blowing from behind him, sending much of the pile scattering across the causeway and liberally coating Cogsworth with a veneer of busy work. "...was because we were standing in the open air with a strong tail wind behind me." He finishes, reaching back into his bag and pulling out a student handbook before opening it.

"Which if I recall correctly from page 204, paragraph 19 of the student handbook.." He said, knowing full well how hypocrtical the gesture was and hardly caring. He was a hypocrit about more than a few things, so why not add this to the list as well. "The Littering policy clearly states that the responsiblity of cleaning, along with potential fines, falls to the party responsible for dumping said materials. If said unlawful disposal of materials is the result of neglience in storage or transport of either mundane or magical materials, said party will also face further punative measure." He quoted, his sneer being thankfully hid by the handbook and a well practiced sheepish tone.

"Given that I made a all reasonable efforts to adhere to this policy by my earlier formal request the responsible party in question here is...." He closes the book, shooting Cogsworth the fakest apologetic look he could manage. "Well, you sir. By virtue of negligent transport. Still...." He slaps the handbook shut, pushing it back into his bag.

"I wont presume to quote your own policies at you all day. And I should get breakfeast before classes begin. Come along Penjani..." Lorcan says airily, pushing past the robobutler calmly. The tiny dragon girl in question glaring at the robot while she passes but sticking close to her masters shadow as they continued to the cafeteria doors.

-Cafteria A-
Darcella @Artifex

Once inside the cafeteria Lorcan allowed himself to relax, his eyes rolling at the outrage that glorified toaster had had at his summons state of dress. Really, if someone was so pathetic their only option for romantic fulfillment was in the form of their own summons Lorcan doubted there was a realm desperate enough to take them up on the offer. More over than that, he'd be damned before he let anything with tentacles call HIS summons inappropriate. Speaking of....

Penjani stared at her master, eyes wide with worry and a silent demand of approval. Sighing, Lorcan reluctantly patted the purple dragons head gently. "Thank you Peni." He grunted, ignoring how the dragons eyes lit up with joy at the rarely used pet name. "Cogsworth can eat a fat dick. You may continue to dress how you please....In fact, I order you to do so." He added after a moment, walking over to the food line stepping past more than a few students ahead of him to grab an orange.

He wasn't really in the mood to eat, not after having to engage in a dick measuring contest with the robot, but he would need atleast something to hold him over until lunch. He ignored the pointed glares of the plebeians he'd stepped in front of for his pilfered goods as he ran his eyes across the room, looking for a place to sit. Isobel was easy enough to spot, being the only face he really cared enough about to recognize, but she seemed to be with another girl already. He was tempted to go over and sit with them, but his 'cousin' had mentioned being late to something and it was reasonable to assume this was it. He'd not be so rude as to intrude on that little meeting, and there would be time to meet her friends later. Now if it was a guy, he'd gladly be so rude. If only to embarrass his cousin a little.

Looking elsewhere he spied a veritable gaggle of Dracona students huddled together and with a shrug he pushed through the crowd and took a seat. A few of the table residents stared his way...well, more glowered really. As if personally offended by his presence. He supposed that was fair, he'd only been there a few hours. Hardly enough time to establish where on the pecking order most of these peons stood.

Silently he noted the person across him was not glaring. She was a thin sort, perhaps a little older than him with scarlet hair and red eyes and perhaps a year or two older than himself. He wondered for a moment if she was of Mulryan stock before dismissing it, her eyes a shade few too dark to pass for it. "Excuse me..." Someone to his left grunted, stopping Lorcan's musings midway through peeling his orange. "But you are..?"

"Eating." Lorcan said flatly, feeling Penjani giggle silently behind him. The young man balked for a moment, Lorcan taking a moment to commit the offended look to memory. "I MEANT..." He half growled. "Is that you are aware that you are-"

"In L'mordryn's Cafeteria, yes." Lorcan huffed, unable to keep his annoyance out of his voice. He turns away from the other student and returns his attention back to the red-haired woman. "Is conversation with him always this dull or did I catch him on a good day?" He asked, popping an orange slice into his mouth casually.


@Pyromania99@Rune_Alchemist@A Lowly Wretch

"Its....90% junk by volume..." Odhra said in a defeated tone, staying quite as Nettle suffered through the usual morning shenanigans. Seemed like everyday a summon ended up in someones food. Thankfully this time it was on the less life threatening side. He sighed as Floofel addressed him but made no rebuttal. She was right of course, telling someone they need to eat better and MAKING them were two entirely different beasts.

After that he stayed mostly quiet for the meal, focusing on forcing his own food in. His stomach felt painfully full after half way through the porridge but he managed to catch a second wind and force the rest down. Eating didn't always make him feel miserable, but it seemed this one was going to. Snuggles prodded his feet questioningly, concerned with his sudden shift in comfort. He let his hand drift down and patted her gently but said nothing, knowing he'd feel better in an hour or two after his stomach settled.

"If you two don't mind..." He said, finally drifting back into the conversation and turning to Livia. "I might join you. Ives' covers the morning shift at the clinic so I'm free. Plus I've got some books I need to get quotes from for herbology club and I'm doing the catering for C&F for tomorrows meeting. Wanna get what Eva would like as a desert dish since its her turn to chose..." He then turns to Eva with a hard look in his eyes. "And yes, its still Veggie Lasagna as the main dish. Before you or anyone else from the club even asks." he adds, crossing his arms. He already made the food last night, and he was not about to make something new for one or two objections.

-Cogsworth vs. the Forces of Nudity-
Penjani practically leapt from her skin as she rounded the corner, nearly colliding with a metal automaton, his dapper dress doing little to hide the tentacles which curled behind it. A silent squeal escaped her, though only experience with the mute little dragon girl clued Lorcan in on that little outburst, and she ducked behind her summoner quickly to hide clinging tightly to the back of his jacket. Lorcan repressed a sigh, Penjani was great company, but he'd be lying if he said her meekness wasn't vicariously embarrassing at times. Normally he'd hushedly remind her of his standing and image, warning enough to usually get the dragon at least stone faced enough to stand at his side subserviently while he spoke. But pleasantries, even with a robot, demanded a more immediate response on his part.

"Cogsworth, it is a distinct pleasure to meet you." He said calmly, his smile polished and warm but as plastic and fake as the Curator's. While he could understand the Curator's need to enforce the rules, the robot had made a simple mistake that would not be allowed to stand. He'd made a demand of a Brigh. And a Brigh, no matter the situation, did not yield to demands. They made them. A lesson he was more than happy to remind the tinman of. As politely as possible of course; A Brigh did not show their anger afterall.

"While I appreciate the word of warning, I'm afraid I must decline your request at this time." He says simply, enjoying the slight shift he felt along his back as said Dragon peeked out from behind him to stare daggers at Cogsworth. "Not out any sense of rebellion on my part though." He adds, almost too diplomatically. "As a dragon, she can be exceptionally stubborn. She simply refuses to wear more out of preference, and super imposing my will over a summon over such a trivial matter would be disrespectful to their service. And as my personal aid, I am ill inclined to do such a thing." He explains, needlessly of course. Most people who WEREN'T invokers knew how prideful dragons were. That Penjani was an exception to this rule wasn't something Cogsworth needed to know. Just because she WOULD dress more conservatively if he ordered her to did not mean he would.

"I will speak to her on this matter privately and see what can be done." He adds, his smile taking on a hint of arrogance as he threw any intention of doing such straight into the dirt where it belonged. "However, beyond that I can promise nothing." He returns the small bow Cogsworth gave earlier, Penjani being lifted up as she continued to cling about his waist and glaring at Cogsworth with uncharacteristic sense of hostility.

"Still, I am glad to have run into you. Saves me the trouble." He says quickly, not wanting to give Cogsworth a chance to immediately rebut his denials. "I'd like to make two small requests of you. Firstly, my driver is at the gates. Please see to his comfort and inform him he is to rest a day before returning to town. Naturally I will pay for any fees his accommodation requires." He says, voice now a little softer, if only for the benefit of his drivers comfort. It helped, though it was probably hard to miss that it was worded as less a request than an order. Albeit one that would make L'mordryn look to be poor host if they refused.

"Secondly, and more pressingly. I require the collective assignments and reading materials presented in my classes up to this date. While my tutors assure me that they've maintained as close a parallel to the lesson plans as possible, it would be an insult to not make sure personally. You would have my personal gratitude if those materials were to be delivered to my dorm by this evening." He said cheerily, voice sweet and promising in a way that only came with years of practice.


@Pyromania99@Rune_Alchemist@A Lowly Wretch
Odhra walked carefully through the cafeteria like a bomb was about to go off. Not that he was nervous or anything, it was just that after the first few months at school, after people got to know him, meal times were...well, difficult wasn't the right word. He'd never had problems, but more than a few people were on constant high alert around him for some reason. He could see it in the way their bodies tensed as he'd pass them, or the faint look of misplaced terror as one of his babies skittered behind him. Today it was Snuggles, whose talons clacked loudly behind him as he walked to the counter to grab his normal meal, occasionally turning to examine a few students who probably smelled like enticing meals of their own, 'licking' her mandibles eagerly before finally following Odhra.

Arriving at the counter Odhra quickly snapped up his breakfast for the morning...well, most mornings really. Him standing behind people tended to make them nervous so any high demand item was kind of out of the question, least he encite another queue stampede. Cogsworth had really given him an earful about that one! So, the less desirable items were the best choice. Simple porridge with a small dusting of brown sugar and salt, a grapefruit, and a single strip of limp slightly under cooked bacon (a rare treat!) would work for today.

For him, it was a big meal. Being ill for so long had played hell with his appetite and it was always an effort to try and keep his calorie count up. He groaned quietly as his stomach already began to roll violently at the thought of haing to finish it all; a young man near him taking the outburst as a warning and snapping back down into his seat as his friends shot him a strange look before spying Odhra and nodding sympathetically.

Deciding he should get out of the way before anything that required his services managed to break out, Odhra quickly and carefully scanned the crowd before moving to his normal sitting area. Which was to say, at Livia's flank and across from Eva, Floofel and Nettle. "Good morning everyone!" He chirped as he sat down, nodding at the three politely. Eva was...a friend he guessed? They both went to the Cute and Fluffy Club, and he was hard pressed to say he didn't like all of the things she had submitted for review. The fact that 90% was just Floofel doing something mundane or that he liked pretty much everything that was submitted to the club for review maybe weakened the assertion a bit.

Livia and Nettle though, those two were a lot easier to put in the friend category. Nettle was about the only normal person he'd meet at the school and at least seemed to appreciate his choice in summons, at least as much as someone raised in a swamp could. She was kind of too focused on studying at times, but Odhra wasn't about to fault someone for passion. Plus, she could make some of the best anti-venoms he'd ever seen. Or used for that matter.

Livia was just easy to talk to. She had that cool older sibling air that said they weren't paying attention to what you were saying but totally listening the whole time. She was, frankly, a blessed outlet of conversation (however onesided) in a sea of otherwise way too easily freaked out people.

Looking at Eva's breakfeast of choice brought Odhra out of his musings. "Eva..." He scolded weakly, looking over the pile of sugar and fats. "You're going to stunt your growth if you don't eat a more varied diet." He warned, not for the first time, as he cut in grapefruit in two and shooting Floofel a pleading look. "Please make sure she had at least a little fruit. Hold any cute actions hostage if you need to..." He ordered to the moth in question his tone only half joking, knowing full well there was very little the moth could do that Eva wouldn't find cute. But trusting the moth-maid to do the task all the same, if not for his benefit than for her diminutive masters.

-Room 1, 6th floor, house Bestia-
A soft vibration on his chest alerted Odhra that it was time to wake up, bleary eyes opening weakly to the clacking mandibles of a giant blue and white spider shaking violently on top of him. Most people at this point would probably have started screaming, but Odhra had long since become accustomed to such morning calls. "Good morning Snuggles" he coo'd, stroking the beast gently atop her head. It was an admittedly silly ritual of hers, the poor dear. Afraid that if she did not wake him up early enough he would not feed the various spiders and scorpions littered about his room, most in small plastic cages to keep them safe but a few freely wondering about on the walls in small nests of webs. As if he would ever let his babies go without their meals, but Snuggles was a sweetheart like that.

Carefully he let his hands roam around his body and towards the edge of the bed. Not for any sense of comfort, but because of a hard lesson he'd learned long ago about scorpions and their love of dark warm places. His bed being a prime candidate for such things. Losing a baby due to his own mistakes was always hard, especially when he accidentally squished them, but it was the nature of owning this many wild animals. They weren't summons, there was no desire to obey as there was with Snuggles. Only primal needs and knowledge and a frustrating lack of trainability. Working AROUND them was the only option sadly, the creatures too unintelligent to know how to work with him and only encouraging bad behavior if he worked FOR them.

That wasn't to say he was unhappy with the situation, far from it. Of the ten (eleven he reminded himself) arachnids currently sharing his space most were happy to be held or occasionally petted. But it was a small thing, tolerance and not love, for none of them were built for such things. Pushing himself up from the bed he stepped carefully over to his desk (eyes keenly watching for any wandering souls) before opening the desk and taking out a seal plastic jar, filled half way with writhing maggots and discarded fruit.

Reaching inside and ignoring the faint squishing sensation of rotting fruit he withdrew the four he'd need for today. Another hard lesson. The temptation to over feed all of his pets was there but it would only hurt them more if he did. Strict diets and regimented feedings was the way to do it. Just as important was growing his own food for his babies, carefully monitoring the intake of the maggots and roaches he gave to them to make sure they were free of harmful contaminants like heavy metals or mold.

The first three went well, the four spiders sensing their prey and hungrily snatching them up and giving him little to no mind. The fourth, a small brown scorpion missing a pincer, instead flared itself threateningly at him as he opened its cage. "Mr. Gigglesworth..." Odhra sighed, trying to sound disappointed to his newest arrival despite still being half asleep and the admittedly illfitting name. The poor scorpion probably had reason to distrust him, having been stepped by a heartless jerk when he was first rescued. But still, after all the effort he'd gone through to nurse the poor little guy back to health it was a little frustrating to still be considered a threat. Closing the cage he left the scorpion to his meal, noting to find some gloves and handle him a little tonight after classes when he might be more relaxed and active.

He left his room, stopping only to grab a fresh set of clothes and check the seals around his door. Escape attempts were common, though thankfully his roommates were more or less familiar with standard opperating procedure now. Herd his babies into a jar with a hole in the lid and wait for him to collect them. Or there would be hell to pay in the form of Bubbles.

Odhra ran through his morning shower, not really enjoying the hot water or the fevered scrubbing as he cleaned himself. When you spent a lot of your time washing your hands already, bathing sort of lost its relaxing element. As he finished dressing a heavy weight slammed into his back, attempting to climb atop him but sending him tumbling to the ground. "Snuggles..." He grumbled, pushing the large spider off him. "Baby girl we talked about this. You're too big to carry around campus sweetpea..." He said, trying to ignore the pained look on the giant creatures face as it was reminded again that it was no longer the cute little hatchling that sat atop his head.

"Don't worry..." he coo'd rubbing her mandibles gently as she chittered her begrudging pleasure. "I'll let you and Bubbles out during my free period today...and if you behave I'll let you feed today. Okay?" he asked, the giant spider shaking for a moment before disappearing back to her own realm with what Odhra recognized as a pouting look. Satisfied she would behave herself Odhra finished dressing and made his way out the door, heading to the cafeteria to grab some food himself, reminding himself that Snuggles was looking a little thin recently and that he'd need to have a fat heavy breakfast today.


-Gates to the Cafeteria-

Lorcan rolled his eyes and suppressed a chuckle at Isobel and Ceirvia's threats of retribution. "I'm certain you will try. But alas, I don't think my insult so great that it could not be resolved with a massage and liberal application of mint candy respectively." He chuckles into the earwrym as he sauntered up the stairs. Gods there were WAY too many of these. He was about to ask if Isobel wanted to meet up for lunch when the girl practically exploded on the other end of the line, a cry of tardiness being all he could make out before the line went dead. A small snort of amusement escapes him as he takes the earwrym off and pockets it, glad to see that his 'cousin' was as much a disaster waiting to happen as ever. Some people, like himself, were reliable bastions of order. Some folks might have found comfort in that. Lorcan preferred the proxy catharsis that came from watching Isobel wing...well pretty much everything to varying degrees of success.

He could ask what all that was about later though, for now it was best to orient himself. Reaching the top of the stairs (FINALLY) he reaches into his bag, pulling out a small map of the school and his itinerary for the day. "Penjani..." he huffs, the familiar sense of warmth that came with a gate opening suffusing him as said summon apperated next to him, purple hair wiping about for a moment as she took in the surroundings before relaxing fully. "We've arrived at L'mordryn's." He offered simply, the explanation not really necessary for his dragon-gir-companion. But it would have been rude not to provide it. "I'll need your aid in navigating for the next few days." He says, a faint bubble amusement as the summons eyes widened with excitement, eager as always to earn some well deserved praise. "Yes yes you will be doubtlessly invaluable." he added, the snark lacking any real venom as he gently patted her head, the dragon girl fussing for a moment before leaning into the gesture.

"For now, let's start simply..." he continues, glancing down at the map for a moment while continuing to pet her. "The cafeteria's not far. Lead me there." he commands, the bliss on the dragon girls face hardening instantly to determination as she nodded. Lorcan removes his hand from her head, letting the dragon whip her gaze back and forth as she went through her process of finding the path, something he was still unsure the exact mechanics off. After a moment her eyes lock onto a small side path, grabbing his hand and attempting to drag him forward. Though, in truth the act was fairly ineffective, Penjani looking for all the world like an overly excited puppy at the end of its leash as she lead Lorcan, content to follow but moving at a decidedly slower pace than her.

Lorcan stirred from the weak attempt at sleep as his carriage rolled over yet another subtle bump in the road, an annoyed sneer smearing across his face as he added it to his ongoing count of sleep depriving detritus experienced over the last few hours. Realms above and below he hated traveling, especially overnight. His carriage was finely made, Brougham style and made from a richly blue-purple wood that he could not name. Gold leaf inlaid into richly detailed filigree carved into its sides and pulled by twined stallions of alabaster white and intimidating physique. All of which was likely to distract from the faint glow of magi-tech plates resting between the passenger car and the wheels.

A more reasonable soul might assume the plates acted as a form of suspension, a magically crafted guarantee of a smooth ride. And had a more reasonable soul commissioned the construction of this vehicle, it probably would have. Sadly, his father was not a reasonable soul, and instead had insisted on the traditional image of a horse drawn carriage be maintained and egregiously decorated. Even the horses were mere affectations, the rich thud of their hooves against the road to their bodies being little more than minor illusory effects. Courtesy of some here to unknown (but doubtlessly expensive) mystical bauble a machina alum was doubtlessly proud of.

No the real ‘horsepower’ of this gilded affront to rationality were the aforementioned plates; Magi-tech engines that thrummed quietly as they pushed the carriage along at an (admittedly) impressive clip. However, by this point Lorcan was far from being impressed. Being trapped inside the damnable thing for two days somewhat robbed one's appreciation of even its finer qualities. The inside was decorated with stiff leather, embossed with gold nailheads that dug into his back after the first hour. It helped little that the thing was packed to the gills with luggage. Only one case of which he personally had deigned to bring. The rest had been ‘helpfully’ provided to him, much of it formal wear, should he have need of it.

The carriage would likely turn heads when he arrived (if anyone was even awake at this hour to see him), but as it stood he was thoroughly miserable inside it. Only his driver having it worse, the open air seating he was given doing little to protect him from the elements. With a swallowed sigh he pushed open the curtains and leaned his head out the window, addressing the man in question.

“Feston.” He said primly but softly, honestly not wanting to agitate the poor man unduly. Last night’s storm had done more than number on the poor man’s spirit thank you very much. “I apologize but how much furt-”

Feston, a balding man of his forties with a normally lush and well groomed moustache, wiped his head back towards Lorcan, voice creaking with an agitation constrained only by years of practice. “A few minutes young master.” He huffed, voice raspy and thick. “Ye can see L’mordyn oncein we crest this hill.”

Lorcan took the brusque response in stride and did not let his instinctual reaction to show on his face. Being angry with Feston wouldn’t help either of them and, by this point, suffering the man’s ire was more than a little deserved. “I see. Thank you Feston. Please, let me know when we are at the gates, I wish to freshen up.” Lorcan chimed pleasantly, the subtle grunt being the only acknowledgement the order was accepted.

Carefully closing and securing the curtain Lorcan grabs a small jug of water and opens a random suitcase, grabbing a freshly pressed shirt to use as a rag. His parents likely would have been aghast at him stripping and washing himself (albeit with some limitations) in such a manner, but they were thankfully not here. And right now, Proprietary could eat a fat dick. He was NOT attending classes smelling like the back end of a wyvern.


“Young Master.” Feston said a good half hour later, a note of relief ringing heavily in his voice. “We’ve arrived.” Lorcan leans out of the carriage window, looking up towards the vast stairwell that lead into L’mordryn proper. Staring up the stairs (and boy where there a lot of them) up at the main entrance allowing his eyes a moment to roam up the yellow-white brick to the statue of a four winged angel, weapons at ease in their hands as their immense form stood sentinel over the school.

“Very good.” Lorcan says, stepping out quickly and dusting off a fresh uniform, a small bag draped casually across his shoulder. “Please see to my luggage being delivered to my room if you would be so kind...I’m sure the school has some staff who could happily assist you.” He said, watching with some amusement as the man’s deep scowl quickly evaporated the moment he was not expected to do so alone. Like Lorcan could be so cruel.

The sun had only just risen, so classes had likely yet to start, which meant he’d arrived on time at least. As much as he would have liked to settle in today, the school was already being more than generous in taking him in so late in the year (even if he DID study while competing). It would be an intrusion on that kindness to skip the first day in his new home.

“Speaking of intrusions…” He said, pulling a small golden dragon ear piece from his pocket, the metal cold and stinging against his skin in the cold autumn morning. He concentrates for a moment, wondering if (given the sheer size of the campus) if she was even in range. A soft tinny ringing from the dragon banishing the concern from his mind just as quickly as it came.

“Isobel. I hope I did not wake you…” He said, smirking as he began to ascend the steps and knowing full well he did. The day Isobel was an early riser was the day he ate his own hat. “I just wanted to let you know I’ve just arrived safely. How have you been?”

I'll be working up a CS sometime over the next two days if there are still slots available. Likely a Tyro for Dracona, cause someone has to be at the bottom of the top.

interacting with: Celosia@Kitty, Alexina @Aerandir, Taran@Ellion

Usoa had done little after the excitement of this morning's meeting, which was something of a norm for her. She had returned to her dwellings just as quickly as she could, eager to disrobe of her ‘formal’ garments and return to her normal duties. A few of the younger witches flitted about the space of the ‘clinic’ providing what minor medical attention was needed to its various residents as their patron stalked through on eight tentacles, only stopping briefly to free herself of the pants and shirt she had been adorned with; dropping them to the floor in a haphazard pile of fabric that was to be someone else's problem.

There was little in the way of work to do at the moment though, and Usoa found herself...bored. As much warmth she may have felt for Alexina, there was something to be said about her propensity towards isolation and peace. It left people like Usoa desperately under worked. The weird amalgam of eldritch and human lifts herself slightly, surveying the clinic momentarily as she tried to run through a mental checklist of things that her ‘toys’ needed, only coming up with rest for her efforts.

With an annoyed huff she slunk deeper into her clinic, arms reaching into a carved out hole in the wall near a back corner and pulling her up with (to observers) looked to be an unnatural grace. Inside there was a rats nest of blankets, most due for a cleaning but not overly so, discarded books and wooden toy people of various occupations with long faded paint.

She regarded the toys silently as she pulled the covers over herself, a brief moment of bliss shooting through her as she felt her own residual body heat still trapped firmly in its folds. She couldn’t remember where they had come from nor why she liked them. They were crude approximations of people, their faces little more than spheres with small pointed wedge like noses to complete the image. All most all posed in the same stilted fashion, arms at their side and legs straight, with only the occasional lifted arm holding aloft some icon of their profession to distinguish those of greater standing. Bakers and Coopers stood mirrored by Soldiers, holding aloft their rolling pins and hammers in mocking salute of their bladed counter parts.

As sleep began to worm its way in her chest she wondered if they appreciated the insult before brushing the thought away. Wood was not of the thinking sort. She allowed an arm to brave the cold air outside of her nest and let it flick a wooden soldier to its side before returning, coiling her tentacles around her tightly as she gave up fighting the urge to nap.


It was dark by the time she awoke, knowing more from the sounds of deep breathless sleep that echoed into her hole from the clinic than what the light of the room. She rumbled darkly as she turned in the covers, attempting to banish her consciousness away so she could enjoy the warmth of her bed for a few hours longer with little success. After a few fruitless moments she admitted defeat, dragging her body from her nest in a tangle of limbs and blankets.

She allowed the blankets to fall from her body and pool on the floor beneath her, knowing full well she probably should clean it up herself but struggling to find the motivation to do so. Someone else would clean it, they did more often than not atleast. She yawned and stretched the whole of herself, tentacles curling and uncurling at odd angles from her body seemingly enjoying the act as much as the rest of her.

Cold air rushed over her, a pleased murmur escaping her as goosebumps erupted along her skin as she entered the final stages of waking up. She allowed her feet a rare moment of contact with the floor, a final shuddering spike of cold rising up through her as she made tentative contact with the floor. She wandered slowly and quietly over to a window, careful not to disturb the sleep of what few patients she had, gazing out over the darkened courtyard of Castle Bloodrose.

Alexina was standing sentinel at the gates, posture firm and solemn as the castle she claimed as her own. Though not an alien sight, it was rare enough to warrant a weak bubble of interest from Usoa. Alex was, for the most part, not a creature of whimsy. If she was at the gates, it was not to entrance herself in the joy of a cold nights air. She was either waiting patiently for something or something very foolish was about to walk into her. Either option struck Usoa as more interesting than spending another night doing approximately fuck and all in her own quarters.

She turned from the window and headed towards the door of her chambers, not bothering to worry about dressing. It was late enough that what few children that called Castle Bloodrose home were long since asleep so those who may see her would be more than capable of handling the sight, if not entirely used to it by this point.


As she pushed the door to the courtyard open, two things caught Usoa’s attention. First, the acrid rot of a Death’s Fog hung weakly in the air. Too weak to have been close or recent, but it was there all the same. Usoa thanked her lucky stars she had been asleep when it rolled in, feeling herself gag against the smell slightly, having hated that stench for far longer than she could remember.

The second thing was that Alexina was no longer alone, her...child? Ward?....Welp? Whatever Taran was to Alex, he was there, his words falling weakly from his mouth after a embrace by the older witch. At his flank was another, less familiar face. Red hair flowed smoothly over soft curves, quiet literally red and quite literally flowing Usoa noted.

Swallowing the sour taste of the Death’s Fog out of her mouth, Usoa pushed outward into the night air. Fingers of too cold air crawling along the length of her spine before spread out across the rest of her skin as she approached the trio, the awkward lilting gait provided by her extra limbs being surprisingly quiet when she willed it to be.

”Taran brings us another?” She says as she gently steps past Alexina, eyes tracing over the young man’s frame in search of injuries. Her eyes spied the growing purple black stain of his wrist, swollen and angry with neglect. ”And hurts themself in the process…” She added after a quick glance to Celosia showed she was perfectly fine, sans a few minor scrapes here or there.

Usoa grabs the fabric of Taran’s sleeve, raising the injured arm up as she closed the gap between them to examine the extent of the damage. ”We know you know how to make a splint.” She said her tone carrying its normal levels of indifference, though only slightly higher with the mild aggravation one might expect from an exasperated maid walking in on a muddied floor. Celosia and Alex were treated to the sight of a tentacle sliding back into Usoa’s skin, the ichor black appendage growing smaller and smaller until it disappeared into pale flesh.

It was probably a waste to spend a coil on the boys foolishness, but Usoa doubted she would need all four over the next four days. And if the current state of his wrist was any indication, he could not be trusted to take care of himself properly if given a lesser cure. The fact that she was also a little bored perhaps also influenced the final decision, though she would not let Alexina in on that little fact.

Usoa pulled herself ever closer to Taran, wrapping her arms around his and pressing it firmly in a vertical grip against her chest, angled such that his wrist sat level with her mouth. ”You will hold very still…” She warned darkly, yellow eyes gleaming with both warning and a frightening amount of unvoiced amusement as seven tentacles wavered in the air around her.. ”Or We will be doing this again. Less comfortably.”

Giving him no time to respond, Usoa bit into the soft swollen flesh of Taran’s wrist, ripping away a not so small chunk of the poor boy in doing so. She allowed herself a moment to enjoy the feel of it all; the soft ball of rolling flesh moving freely in the confines of her mouth like an over ripened piece of fruit, the metallic tang of blood against her tongue and throat, the writhing sense of movement that was slowly making its way up her throat. But she allowed herself ONLY that moment, unhinging her jaw from Taran’s arm to quickly spit the warlocks now useless flesh out before it became a hindrance.

Usoa briefly wondered if this new girl thought the whole situation looked as strange as it likely felt for Taran, but banished the line of thought as quickly as it came when she felt the tentacle emerge from the back of her throat. She clamped her mouth back over Taran’s fresh wound as it crawled forth from inside her and pushed its way into the warlock, a black worm that distended her throat to the point of near asphyxia that dug into the broken flesh of her victimpatient.

The tentacle snaked its way through Taran’s flesh, pushing vien and bone out of its way with almost no concern for comfort or care as it simply attempted to fill as much of his arm as possible. The skin around the wrist bulged unnaturally, almost doubling in width and threatening to burst for a moment before the invading ‘aid’ of Usoa seemed to find the crampedness equally unbearable and coiling part way up the young man's arm. After that, it seemed to settle and Usoa felt a familiar snap deep in her stomach signaling she’d released the tentacle successfully. She leaned back from her grip on Taran’s wrist, more tentacle flowing out of her throat for a few inches before finally ending with a wet pop.

The hole she had bitten in the warlock was bleeding less now, more a slow weeping wound than the gout of blood it really should be. ”Better?” She asks as she quickly wraps the remainder of the detached tentacle around his wrist before slinking behind him, arms wrapping around his chest as she held him firmly against her. Likely a somewhat...scandalous pose for Celosia, but Taran likely knew how draining his elders methods could be on her patients, so the support was not without merit. That and, despite not being particularly fond of men, Usoa had to admit the night air as...more than she wanted to deal with in her current state of dress. The new girl would be more ideal, but she seemed a tad….flamey for that at the moment.



interacting with: Rowyn@Kitty, Flint @Aerandir, @Bright_Ops

”Not a problem!” Sanjin chirped, almost too happily as he casually stabbed the sword into the chest on an oncoming goblin. He really couldn’t help but enjoy all of this...chaos, he supposed. Sure people were dying which sort of sucked the joy out of the whole deal, but people were ALWAYS dying. Saren’s folly, as far as he could tell anyway, had a near perpetual effluvial haze of fatalism hanging about it even in the most joyous occasions. Brutal as this whole scenario was, Sanjin would be a liar if he said that the collective catharsis he felt from the other hunters (...ok. Just him really.) was wonderful.

A loud parade of squawks brought him back to reality, his eyes turning to the noise in unison with the goblins, though more out of confusion than reference for the divine fowl in question. Sanjin could practically feel the goblin hordes collective mass begin to shift away from him and the doctor, eager to recover such a holy beast. He almost laughed again, Flint’s battered and now be-chickened frame wading through the battlefield like the world's worst delivery man being the last thing he’d expected. The doctor was...far less amused, drawing her sword and cutting a clumsy path towards the bowman.

Sanjin followed in her wake, stabbing and crushing what goblins she left in her path of less than stellar sword play. He was about to ask if she wanted him to take the lead when a goblin swiped at her leg as she screamed at Flint. Something...clicked inside the woman and the words on his lips died as it did, his body immediately syncing and feeding off the suddenly vicious aura around the woman.

Whatever it was it felt GREAT. Powerful, animal and almost lustful! And it showed in the doctors sudden, though much improved, blade work. Sanjin let himself feed off the feeling, letting himself be lost in it as he too began to tear into the goblins. Details were becoming fuzzy for him, the sensation of a dull thud resonating through his club or the sleight resistance of his sword on flesh becoming far more meaningful than sight.

Those looking at the spectacle of the two hunters, it must have been hard not to start pitying the goblins (even if only slightly). Caught between two berserking storms of hunters and the object of their devotion, neither maelstrom of painless fury slowing. A cackling howl escaped Sanjin as he drove his sword straight through the wooden slat shield of a goblin, hidden manic eyes sliding over the doctor’s form before he yelled at them. ”HAHA, I fucking love it! What else ya got!? MORE MORE!” He half cackled, whatever plan Flint may have had being lost to a frenzy.

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