Alistair ascended the ramp onto the airship in several controlled strides, coattails moving lazily about as he did. The slight grin didn't leave his face. In fact, it may even have widened. While other students began to display signs of nervous tension, Alistair, perhaps paradoxically, did quite the opposite; He didn't feel more nervous, he felt less so. He'd spent his night preparing his weapons religiously, taking stock of his equipment, and ensuring that every single piece was working at one hundred percent capacity. He'd reviewed his texts on Grimms, mulled over what he knew of the other students, made sure he remembered names, and finally, he had rested. He had risen this morning to do another check of his equipment and now, a few brief hours later, here he was on the airship to the event that would decide his success or failure.
And that was why he didn't feel nervous. All of the preparation was done. There were no more materials to study, no statistics to worry about. There were no more questions. There were only two options left; Success or failure. There was no in-between, no point between. He would give it his all, and it would either be enough or it wouldn't be.
It would be enough. It had to be. He had worked far too long, far too hard, to fail when he had come so close. The smile widened slightly as he casually adjusted his coat and the holsters for his weapons, more for something to do than anything else. Idly, he glanced about to see if anyone he knew was nearby. He'd rather have a little conversation before the test began.
Ghosthands,
Plank Sinatra,
UltimoScorp,
The World