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    1. samakama 6 yrs ago

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Nyx began to speak, and Misaiya at once understood why Avalice had such an atrocious attrition rate.

It appeared that each class was the personal fief of their professor. The students were akin to serfs, subject to arbitrary dismissal at the professor’s whim. The headmaster was no doubt complicit — no, he was the ringleader, the overlord in this feudal analogy.

It was inane. Was this the norm in Genelogia? Or were Suanneipuan schools the outliers? Either way, Avalice was in dire need of pedagogical reform — but that was a goal for the long term. There were more pressing matters to attend to now.

Avalice was a school that placed as much (if not more) emphasis on combat. Well cognizant of this, Misaiya had prepared and brought both his stationery and his equipment. Put all together, it was quite heavy and awkward to lug around concealed despite all the pockets his robes had, and made him yearn for the backpack that he had left back in the dormitories along with his luggage. There was no more cause for regret now, though.

His rifle made up over half of both the weight and the awkwardness, spare air reservoir and a tube of extra ammunition included. On the opposite extreme was the sling that he had earlier tried to turn into a noose, folded up neatly and tucked away somewhere safe, which was so light he had half-forgotten where exactly in his robes it was now. A machete and a walking stick which doubled as a laundry pole rounded out his melee options. Of course, Misaiya had very little real experience with most of these ‘weapons’.

Thankfully, this wasn’t meant to be a deathmatch, and he didn’t intend for it to become one.

Misaiya pointed his (unloaded) rifle at the ground and squeezed the trigger a couple dozen times. Each harmless puff of air reduced the pressure in the rifle’s reservoir and hence the danger it posed, should he end up using it during the bout. After firing a few live test shots into the ground, he seemed satisfied and slung the rifle his shoulder. Next, he collected a handful of pebbles lying around the arena — but slings could be very fatal, and even though he took the lightest practical bullets he could find, Misaiya was loathe to actually use them for that reason. The machete and pole didn't need any prep work, unless he planned on combining…

Nah. He’d kept his sparring partners waiting enough, and the sling still had its uses. Lastly, he stripped off his robes and placed them far away from the arena in a neatly folded stack, leaving him wearing a white short-sleeved shirt and khaki bermuda shorts.

As he jogged back, he began considering his options. Nyx had announced that ‘over half’ the class would be expelled, which implied that neither victory nor defeat were the ultimate factor informing his decisions. No-one had to win in order to stay, and no-one was guaranteed to stay just because they had won. Now, that was all well and good, but either way he was still rather screwed. His odds of victory were… questionable. His ability to control mana was next to non-existent. Things were looking pretty good.

Misaiya was back at the section of the field where his fellow sparrers were. He took a good look at Yvaine, who he hadn’t previously met — a sylphlike girl, with an air of naïveté and gentle eyes, like a novice straight out of the nunnery. A magic-user much like Kress, most likely. But both of them seemed so harmless that he doubted either would initiate the three-way.

His apprehension wasn’t so apparent as he greeted them. “Hello again, Kress — and you must be Yvaine.” Misaiya gave each of them a nod in turn. Checklist time. Machete: on his hip, ready to be drawn. Rifle: slung and loaded. The stick he held with his left hand, and he slipped a stone into the sling in his right. Honestly, Misaiya probably looked like some sort of super-shepherd.

Appearances aside, he was ready to get this done and over with. ”I am not much in favour of it, but it looks like we’ll have to fight each other.” To win without fighting is the greatest victory, but Misaiya was no general. He would have to settle for something lesser.
@Chezka@samakama Ya wanna do this collab style or just post things down?

collab sounds good.


Misaiya had not spoken much today. He hadn’t any problems with that, though, content as he was to lie back and let Ankaa talk. It was soothing to listen.

The sudden sound of an unfamiliar voice reverberating in his head, in a manner that could only be accurately described as ‘magic’, gave Misaiya quite the shock. It was a little relieving to see that Ankaa and Kress were similarly startled by what he concluded to be the teacher employing telepathy. Only Camellia had been called back to class, it seemed, as no-one else had reacted in the slightest. The paints club had just finished off a solo portrait of their mascot, and Misaiya and his two companions would have been able to take the next slot had the circumstances been in their favour. They were so close…

Ankaa’s words of complaint echoed his own thoughts.

Another thought came to mind. The teacher - Nyx, was it? - had sent a magic message targeting only the Camellians. Which meant that he definitely knew all his students, and most likely had a way to tell where everyone was. The conclusion: Misaiya had probably been found out.

Ah well. He would come clean if Nyx were to probe him in class. It wouldn’t make for a spectacular first impression, but Misaiya did have somewhat of a legitimate excuse, it being the first day and whatnot. Nyx would have to be quite the hypocrite to grill him that much over it, late as he himself was — and as the teacher no less!

Now it was Kress who had begun to share his wisdom.
Maybe Misaiya was overthinking once more, but Kress had seemed a tad more disappointed upon hearing the news than he and Ankaa were. But looking now at the other first-year as he began to explain the workings of the Arcane Paints, that upset mood was no longer apparent.

Misaiya felt a slight pang of envy. He wasn’t a total muggle, but his knowledge of magic was probably below average for a student of Avalice, especially with regard to its more artisanal applications. The less said about his ability to actually use magic the better. Kress was no older than him, but clearly much more experienced in the arcane arts.

Those improper thoughts were quickly deconstructed and dismissed. Each crop has its season. There was no point in envy, perhaps save for being motivation to improve. Most would never be able to so much as manipulate mana; Misaiya had little reason to go about whining. Enough of that.

Thinking about Kress’s invitation… there wasn’t much cause to decline, Ankaa had already accepted, and Misaiya was interested in learning more. There wasn’t really another option.

”I will be looking forward to it.” He may have been a big fish in Suanneipua, but this was truly a place filled with peers and far greater people. ”I hope we’ll learn a lot here in Avalice.”
I volunteer Misaiya for the threeway. It's the only scenario where he's got even the slightest chance of not dying instantly.
I wanna see Eris v Kiara
Eris: "He wouldn't do this if he knows what's good for his health."

Hm, Hana’O has no surname. I guess the Reinhardts will be adopting another sister for our resident siscon…
Allrighty, so technically Lanza could get knocked out without being challenged in person by challenging seat 6 xD Go for it Ty! Add insult to injury and give Lanza the indirect kick by beating 6th seat!

If Ty as a non-Seven beat Hana’O (the Sixth) then she would be removed from the Seven, Ty would become the new Sixth, and Lanza would remain as the Seventh. The moving down by 1 thing is for internal challenges between members of the Seven, if I’ve understood this right.

Bypassing Lanza completely and going straight for higher-ranked seats would be an insult to him still though. Admittedly, it’s like anyone in Camellia is going to be beating any of the Seven any time soon.

Also @Blu can I have a modern-style bicycle (as opposed to a penny farthing or velocipede) or is that too anachronistic? Nyx gets to teleport around campus with shadows…

Is there a discord for this?


For all the limitations inherent in judging books by their covers, Misaiya had always thought it unreasonable to totally give up man’s most powerful perceptive tool - vision. And so, as he chuckled lightly at the recount of the morning class and Nyx’s unprofessional conduct, he observed.

Ankaa looked like a martial artist—perhaps it was the tied-up hair, and the way it floated wildly in the wind—and not one of those mystic types who were more philosopher than fighter in the less-than-positive ‘no action, talk only’ sense. Nor could she have been the opposite extreme, a bloodthirsty ruffian who beats people for fun, detests the weak, and has little brains to accompany their brawn; she surely had a better head on her shoulders than that. She appeared the more realistic and practical sort, who had the conviction and skill to defend themselves and those they held dear without losing to their own temper. The ideal practitioner of martial arts.

At least, that was Misaiya’s opinion. All predicated on an analysis that was anything but rigorous and the assumption that her demeanour reflected her character, he would note. A psychological report wasn’t his intention anyhow. As long as he kept the quick appraisal’s numerous caveats in mind, he could probably avoid prancing straight towards the most egregious faux pas.

Either way, Ankaa was friendly and easy enough to talk to, Misaiya thought.

Then he looked again at her face, a proper and careful look.

She had a questioning expression; not the questioning expression of a typical questioner, which would have been normal enough to evade notice, but the questioning expression of someone who was utterly bewildered, like a foreigner watching a bizarre and incomprehensible local practice. Misaiya hadn’t been listening too closely to her tone of voice, and the compounding marketplace-like bustle was of no help. It was hence unclear to him what exactly Ankaa had found so strange.

Time to put on the thinking cap.

There were three possible sources of her confusion, at least as far as Misaiya could identify from what she had spoken aloud.

“Are you two waiting to get a portrait done?” she asked disbelievingly. “Looks like a long wait,” she noted, expression puzzled.

The first, “you two”. This would make it an expression of surprise that Kress and Misaiya specifically were doing something together. It was immediately evident that this was unlikely at best. Barring some foreign social norm not known to him forbidding his interaction with Kress or other similarly unprovable speculation, there were no concrete grounds to suspect this as the cause.

The second, “waiting”. He would admit that he couldn’t see the slightest outline of a queue, but surely waiting was not so peculiar a sight even here.

The third, “to get a portrait done”. Ankaa was asking, ‘why spend so much time on a drawing of yourself?’ Maybe the idea of wanting your own portrait was inconceivable in some way to her. Hypothetically, could it have been rooted in self-image issues, someone who couldn’t stand the look of their own face and couldn’t imagine wanting to see someone draw it? Not impossible, but if his previous assessment stood true (and that was quite the colossal ‘if’) then fussing over looks in such a way would have been vapid vanity in her eyes. Plus, there was nothing in her appearance for her to be ashamed about, though it’s not as if that had ever stopped anyone.

No, hers was not an outright negative response at all; she did not hate portraits. Neutral - would be the best way to put it. No strong opinion, because portraits are frivolous. They do not serve a purpose.

By extension, this implied that Kress and Misaiya were also frivolous people. How, then, should he explain and justify himself? A more utilitarian approach would fit well, something about evaluating the quality of the cocurriculars perhaps, or building a network of contacts, or, but then again he couldn’t make it appear as if he’d been examining her so thoroughly because, well, that would be unnerving, so it had to be natural, and subtle, and since Kress was here too, sounding too utilitarian would be off-putting, plus, blundering and making a poor impression on Ankaa would have repercussions on more than himself alone and he had to account for—

He was hearing and half-listening to everything Ankaa and Kress said, trying to follow along with little nods and timely chuckles and a content smile on his lips that was not mirrored in his eyes. Yet, occupied as his mind was, none of their words and sentences had any real meaning. Even as they moved on and spoke of other topics, the gears in his head kept turning and churning his brain into smooth mush. What should he do…?!

Ankaa put a rest to all this thinking and rethinking. It took but one simple sentence; sincere, straightforward.

“I will join,” she confirmed.



Damn.

Misaiya noticed that he hadn’t put the thinking cap on all this while. No, it had been a dunce cap.

What have I been doing?

Why was his mind wracked with such crippling indecision and complex inanity at a time and place like this? It was a fun fair after all, meant to welcome the new batch of students, people like Kress and himself. He may as well have some fun. Yes, that was right on—

“As we seem to agree that we would like to see the experts at their work, may I suggest adopting the local custom and squeezing our way through?” Ankaa proposed, one arm spreading wide in the painters’ direction, the other turned towards her classmates, beckoning them with a come-hither motion.

And just as quickly, Ankaa’s suggestion triggered a momentary lapse from this newfound enlightenment.

On one hand, queueing was a fundamental component of civil society. Waiting alongside everyone else was a little bit of equality in an often unfair world, and in Suanneipua it was so inviolable a tradition that you could reserve a spot in the line with nothing but shoes, and a seat or a table with some paper or a coin (or even a whole purse, though that was still a bit of a gamble) and only an oblivious tourist or an utter rascal would dare to break the unwritten rules.

On the other hand, this schoolyard pseudo-market clearly wasn’t a civil society. When in Avalice, do as the Avaliceans do. Misaiya had been to bazaars and wet markets many dozens of times, so this sort of chaos was scarcely an alien environment. He thought about the one next to his home, with geriatric grandmothers outrunning wide-eyed whippersnappers to get first picks from the fishmongers and fruitsellers, how nostalgic!

On the other other hand, there was the exasperated parent’s favourite ‘if everyone jumped off a cliff’ rebuttal. Perhaps all customs were simply peer pressure, codified and normalised. Hm…

Absurdity brought Misaiya back to his senses.

Ah, whatever. The journey here had made his body weary; that bout of irrationality had tired his mind. To live a simple, honest, and genuine life, like his two peers, Kress and Ankaa: that would be an ideal worth striving for. Ankaa had shown the futility of overthinking just now; it wouldn’t do Kress and Misaiya much harm to follow their senior’s lead again. Elder’s wisdom and what not.

“I haven’t any objections. We’ll be in your care.” Misaiya turned to look at Kress, asking for his assent, even as he expressed his own approval.

He faced the stall again, from which emanated laughter and cheering - someone must have been trying to hold an untenable pose, or perhaps made into a comedically grotesque caricature.

“I wonder what they can do. Should we ask for a realistic drawing, or something cartoonish, or…?” Misaiya let his voice trail off. It was rhetorical, more a vocalised thought than a serious question. He did have something to ask, though. Cocurriculars had brightened up many a slow and dreary day, becoming something he looked forward to and dedicated hours to without the slightest regret. If the school life and learning in Avalice was as holistic and broad, it would be quite wonderful.

“How are the clubs here? Are you in any, Ankaa?”
That’s indirect handholding… how lewd.
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