Scribe of Thoth

Primality

I’d be down

Primality

Don't let these glasses fool you, I'm very stupid.

AVERY LOWELL

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^{EARTH ◼ MAY 6TH (17) ◼ MALE}

_{"What's good, my P-words? Wait. I can say it now, right?"}

A P P E A R A N C E:

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Avery is, by all visual accounts, a pretty unremarkable teenager. Standing at only 5'9" with a slightly thin build that speaks to an unexceptional athleticism honed in gym class alone, he's certainly not possessed of an imposing stature. His hair is a sandy blond, his eyes are the kind of brown that look nice in direct sunlight but bland otherwise, his glasses are among the most generic black frames one could find, and he has just enough of a babyface that he's unlikely to be confused for a young-looking adult; nothing that would particularly draw the eye in a crowd. He wouldn't say it was something to complain about, but shouldn't an all-powerful wizard be a bit more grandiose?

B I O G R A P H Y:

---

Contrary to recent events in his life, Avery's tale is one of mediocrity. He grew up in a quaint Maryland suburb in a comfortably average middle-class family, complete with two kids, a dog, and even the white picket fence (okay, technically a white vinyl fence, but still). His grades were decent, if rarely exceptional, he never got into trouble, and his parents' biggest complaints were that he was lax on chores and stayed up too late playing video games. (He swore his mother was way too smug at the optometrist after years of the "you'll ruin your eyes that way" speech.) Avery could've been thrown in any given family sitcom in America and fit in swimmingly, and in his opinion there was nothing wrong with that.

Long nights of avid media consumption brought with them childish fantasies, and action-filled depictions of primalists or primalist-analogues left Avery daydreaming about shooting fire from his hands and saving entire cities from freak tsunamis and all the other comic book crap every teenager believes he'd totally do with superpowers. Of course, he'd never actually met a primalist and they may as well have been fictional as far as he was concerned, but he wasn't delusional; he knew deep down the real purpose was entertaining himself. Even if that meant making fire noises with his mouth while he danced around his room in a way that gave his younger brother secondhand embarrassment.

Maturity dimmed Avery's flights of fancy in favor of the everyday mediocrity he existed contentedly in. He had friends to hang out with, a family to cherish, and a nice community to enjoy; plenty to keep him entertained. It's why Avery stayed oblivious when the dreams started. Plenty of people probably dreamed about the Grand Canyon. Even if he'd never seen it. And he wasn't sure it was the Grand Canyon. And the rock warped into strange, alien shapes as he walked through it. And then there was the one where he was buried alive, but in his defense, that one wasn't scary - it was actually kinda comfy once he was sealed in. His waking hours likewise became haunted by a sense of unease soon after. Some kind of restlessness thrummed within him, which wasn't entirely out of character - he'd always been a little squirrelly - but Avery found himself increasingly antsy without really knowing why, like something was building that he wasn't sure how to release.

With such blatant disregard of the warning signs, it's a blessing that Avery's awakening was responsible only for some property damage rather than a tragedy. Avery found himself perched on a park bench on a sunny Saturday afternoon, waiting for his chronically-late friend to arrive. The antsiness hadn't subsided; in fact he pitched the idea to meet up with his friend at a park precisely because he felt like he had too much energy and he thought messing around outside might help. He was half right. While he sat, Avery bounced his knee as restless teenagers were wont to do, only to find the very ground beneath his feet vibrating along with the motion. His subsequent panicked steps as he shot from his seat shattered the sidewalk and dredged up the earth beneath, creating even more unstable footholds as roiling rivers of dirt replaced solid ground. When the tremors subsided, the other parkgoers found Avery knocked down on his ass in a rubble-strewn circle of what used to be a sidewalk, bruised and dirty but feeling more alive than ever before. Nobody even fell off the monkey bars!

The fallout was less exhilarating. Avery lived in a fairly progressive area, but a primalist was not something that could be easily written off. Word spread fast, and what followed were wary stares and subtle ostracization - and that was before the government suits showed up. The Lowells were told in no uncertain terms that their son would be enrolled at the Merryweather Institute in the interest of public safety, like he'd killed a man and not a slab of concrete. It should've been harrowing, leaving everything he'd ever known behind to be forced into something only a few steps above a prison, but Avery took it with a positive outlook. After all, every kid wants to be special. All he had to do was master this magic stuff and he'd be cleared to leave, then he'd be a superhero or something. He hadn't thought that far ahead, but he'd figure it out. Surely.

P E R S O N A L I T Y:

---

Avery is all bright smiles and boyish enthusiasm, cheery in the thought that he's either about to become a powerful force of nature or can write this whole chosen by Gaea thing off in a few years and go back to being normal, at least superficially. He's good-natured and encouraging about it, wanting nothing more than to nerd out with his fellow students about the amazing feats they're all newly capable of and entertains no negativity in that regard. Such positive excitability can make him appear airheaded and oblivious at times, which are both definitely true, but he's an idealist at heart and stands by his glass half-full stance regardless.

Despite the exuberance of his personality, Avery's a bit of a homebody. While he has no aversion to socializing, and he's certainly not shy in any sense of the word, he'd much rather be slumped down on his couch in front of a gaming console, doing nothing. It didn't help that his friends got all weird on him after word got out that he was a primalist, either. This results in him being a bit harder to coax out of his shell than one would expect, given his upfront friendliness and general tendency to wear his heart on his sleeve.

A B I L I T I E S / S K I L L S:

---

Avery can shape and manipulate stone, from levitating a few pebbles to ripping chunks of rock straight from the ground. Though, the seismic byproducts of the latter have generally dissuaded him from practicing it.

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:

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Idk what to put here but this cast needs some sunshine to balance the edgelords.

Primality

@Ti I mean, the drinking’s not getting any more legal at 18 in NY

Primality

Don't let these glasses fool you, I'm very stupid.

AVERY LOWELL

---

^{EARTH ◼ MAY 6TH (17) ◼ MALE}

_{"What's good, my P-words? Wait. I can say it now, right?"}

A P P E A R A N C E:

---

Avery is, by all visual accounts, a pretty unremarkable teenager. Standing at only 5'9" with a slightly thin build that speaks to an unexceptional athleticism honed in gym class alone, he's certainly not possessed of an imposing stature. His hair is a sandy blond, his eyes are the kind of brown that look nice in direct sunlight but bland otherwise, his glasses are among the most generic black frames one could find, and he has just enough of a babyface that he's unlikely to be confused for a young-looking adult; nothing that would particularly draw the eye in a crowd. He wouldn't say it was something to complain about, but shouldn't an all-powerful wizard be a bit more grandiose?

B I O G R A P H Y:

---

Contrary to recent events in his life, Avery's tale is one of mediocrity. He grew up in a quaint Maryland suburb in a comfortably average middle-class family, complete with two kids, a dog, and even the white picket fence (okay, technically a white vinyl fence, but still). His grades were decent, if rarely exceptional, he never got into trouble, and his parents' biggest complaints were that he was lax on chores and stayed up too late playing video games. (He swore his mother was way too smug at the optometrist after years of the "you'll ruin your eyes that way" speech.) Avery could've been thrown in any given family sitcom in America and fit in swimmingly, and in his opinion there was nothing wrong with that.

Long nights of avid media consumption brought with them childish fantasies, and action-filled depictions of primalists or primalist-analogues left Avery daydreaming about shooting fire from his hands and saving entire cities from freak tsunamis and all the other comic book crap every teenager believes he'd totally do with superpowers. Of course, he'd never actually met a primalist and they may as well have been fictional as far as he was concerned, but he wasn't delusional; he knew deep down the real purpose was entertaining himself. Even if that meant making fire noises with his mouth while he danced around his room in a way that gave his younger brother secondhand embarrassment.

Maturity dimmed Avery's flights of fancy in favor of the everyday mediocrity he existed contentedly in. He had friends to hang out with, a family to cherish, and a nice community to enjoy; plenty to keep him entertained. It's why Avery stayed oblivious when the dreams started. Plenty of people probably dreamed about the Grand Canyon. Even if he'd never seen it. And he wasn't sure it was the Grand Canyon. And the rock warped into strange, alien shapes as he walked through it. And then there was the one where he was buried alive, but in his defense, that one wasn't scary - it was actually kinda comfy once he was sealed in. His waking hours likewise became haunted by a sense of unease soon after. Some kind of restlessness thrummed within him, which wasn't entirely out of character - he'd always been a little squirrelly - but Avery found himself increasingly antsy without really knowing why, like something was building that he wasn't sure how to release.

With such blatant disregard of the warning signs, it's a blessing that Avery's awakening was responsible only for some property damage rather than a tragedy. Avery found himself perched on a park bench on a sunny Saturday afternoon, waiting for his chronically-late friend to arrive. The antsiness hadn't subsided; in fact he pitched the idea to meet up with his friend at a park precisely because he felt like he had too much energy and he thought messing around outside might help. He was half right. While he sat, Avery bounced his knee as restless teenagers were wont to do, only to find the very ground beneath his feet vibrating along with the motion. His subsequent panicked steps as he shot from his seat shattered the sidewalk and dredged up the earth beneath, creating even more unstable footholds as roiling rivers of dirt replaced solid ground. When the tremors subsided, the other parkgoers found Avery knocked down on his ass in a rubble-strewn circle of what used to be a sidewalk, bruised and dirty but feeling more alive than ever before. Nobody even fell off the monkey bars!

The fallout was less exhilarating. Avery lived in a fairly progressive area, but a primalist was not something that could be easily written off. Word spread fast, and what followed were wary stares and subtle ostracization - and that was before the government suits showed up. The Lowells were told in no uncertain terms that their son would be enrolled at the Merryweather Institute in the interest of public safety, like he'd killed a man and not a slab of concrete. It should've been harrowing, leaving everything he'd ever known behind to be forced into something only a few steps above a prison, but Avery took it with a positive outlook. After all, every kid wants to be special. All he had to do was master this magic stuff and he'd be cleared to leave, then he'd be a superhero or something. He hadn't thought that far ahead, but he'd figure it out. Surely.

P E R S O N A L I T Y:

---

Avery is all bright smiles and boyish enthusiasm, cheery in the thought that he's either about to become a powerful force of nature or can write this whole chosen by Gaea thing off in a few years and go back to being normal, at least superficially. He's good-natured and encouraging about it, wanting nothing more than to nerd out with his fellow students about the amazing feats they're all newly capable of and entertains no negativity in that regard. Such positive excitability can make him appear airheaded and oblivious at times, which are both definitely true, but he's an idealist at heart and stands by his glass half-full stance regardless.

Despite the exuberance of his personality, Avery's a bit of a homebody. While he has no aversion to socializing, and he's certainly not shy in any sense of the word, he'd much rather be slumped down on his couch in front of a gaming console, doing nothing. It didn't help that his friends got all weird on him after word got out that he was a primalist, either. This results in him being a bit harder to coax out of his shell than one would expect, given his upfront friendliness and general tendency to wear his heart on his sleeve.

A B I L I T I E S / S K I L L S:

---

Avery can shape and manipulate stone, from levitating a few pebbles to ripping chunks of rock straight from the ground. Though, the seismic byproducts of the latter have generally dissuaded him from practicing it.

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:

---

Idk what to put here but this cast needs some sunshine to balance the edgelords.

Primality

I’m grabbing earth for the record

Primality

I'm unfortunately a slut for magic school shit

Deal with Devils (An occult take on Magical Girls)

Tentatively interested

Magic in the Park

I've been feeling modern magic lately, might throw my hat in if I can come up with a concept. What's the power level you're going for here? The aspects are pretty esoteric, how's that reflect in the actual application of magic?

Fire Emblem: The Slumbering Goddess

---

The rest of Auberon's classmates were - thank the Goddess - not nearly as interesting as Jorah, and that was by no means an insult toward them. Lienna apparently sported a Crest, which told him just about everything he needed to know about her situation, and Derec seemed to be some sort of craftsman. Maybe his family were quite skilled; it could explain his attendance if they were prominent artisans. Kellen wasn't much of a curiosity, but he apparently found the crowd much more intimidating than Auberon did and his fumble elicited a brief look of sympathy from the blond. The Gloucester seemed to have thought much the same, assuming that his punctuating statement was intended to be an olive branch and not a jab, anyway; the boy was stern enough that it was hard to tell the difference. Not like he had much ground to stand on in the latter case; their house sported a girl even more intimidated by public speaking than Kellen was.

The Adrestians were, surprisingly, unremarkable. Not to say that they lacked presence or that Auberon saw them worthy of dismissal, just that they acted wholly within expectations. Despite the rumors of succession troubles, the princess seemed as confident an orator as any emperor, Widolaic fit the mould of a typical noblewoman so well that Auberon could only assume she was anything but, and Johann could've been at home in any noble household in Faerghus with that speech. Excellent competition all around.

At least, that was his first thought, until the professors noted that they were an Eagle short. The Galatea heir twisted himself in his chair to get a good look at the last introductee, though he couldn't say he ever accomplished that. His eyes swept over the nondescript figure at least twice before his brain registered even a single facet of the kid's appearance. House Bergliez sounded more impressive in the storybooks, all things considered; Auberon would've figured he'd been fished out of some gutter rather than a prominent Imperial line. It rounded off the trifecta of terrible introductions, if nothing else.

With that out of the way, Auberon dutifully made his way to Professor Kalon- the female Professor Kalonic and listened attentively as she outlined their duties. It didn't seem particularly harrowing; he'd intended to keep an eye on his peers' training anyway and extra paperwork seemed hardly a bother. Regular meetings with Jorah sounded less pleasant, but it wasn't as if he couldn't stomach the man long enough to finish a simple discussion. Of course, that train of thought evaporated once Cousin von Riegan started getting handsy. They weren't even properly acquainted and he'd already thrown decorum to the wind. Was this normal in Leicester? Auberon was so preoccupied with the arm fondling his shoulder he almost didn’t catch the words that came out of Jorah's mouth. He wanted him to order the Lions to attend his party? Putting aside that Auberon had the strangest notion that their respective definitions of 'party' differed, was this even sanctioned?

Auberon's first thought was to answer with a decisive 'no', but he figured it would be a bit impolite to speak for his housemates, even if they did want to make bad decisions. He stiffly reached to grab Jorah's arm and lift it from around his shoulders as he took a step back.

"That depends, will I be subject to more strange touching if I attend?" Auberon asked flatly, "Calling it your party implies that it's not an official academy festivity and thus I'd have little authority to stand on in telling people to go, even if I wanted to. Who even allowed you to throw this party?" He didn't have high hopes that Jorah got approval from anyone, let alone someone authorized to do so, but he needed to establish whether blowing the Deer off entirely was vaguely rude or simply the wise and correct course of action.

---

@Obscene Symphony

Fire Emblem: The Slumbering Goddess

---

The Lions - his Lions - continued to impress, at least if Lienna was any indication. Auberon would've figured she'd be the least concerned with their performance, but maybe commoners had a spirit of competitiveness that languid noblewomen often lacked. Kellen's appearance only bolstered his good mood, and he offered his fellow noble a welcoming smile. Regretfully, it didn't look like they'd have much time to catch up - or discuss that terribly ill-fitting uniform - as the bell tolled just as Kellen had anticipated it would. Or maybe he and the academy staff just had the same idea. Either way, it wasn't a concern; Auberon would have all year to treat with his housemates and they seemed pleasant company so far. If the remainder of their unit held the same trend, his tenure at the academy would surely be even more fruitful than he imagined.

As unfamiliar faces began to trickle in, Auberon gave a quick bow of his head toward the assembled Lions. "We'll speak later. It's a pleasure as always, Kellen." He took a nearby seat at the head of the classroom and patiently waited for the professors to begin, offering only a few curious glances to the side rather than turning fully around. As Lysander started his introduction, the blond's attention snapped back to the fore, especially at the weight of the professor's words. Any misgivings he may have had about the class arrangement evaporated in the face of his explanation, rooted in benevolent charity as they were. Auberon certainly couldn't argue with the duty to help one's neighbors in times of strife, even if they were Adrestians, and it wasn't as if he could object to a grouping hand-picked by the archbishop himself.

Similarly, the mention of royalty evoked a curious arch of the brow. There certainly wasn't a Blaiddyd in attendance and the Leicestrians arrogantly thought themselves too important to swear fealty to a liege, so that could only mean a member of the Imperial Family graced Garreg Mach's halls this year. Auberon was slightly tempted to turn around and take a guess, but Michail suggested a way to remove any ambiguity, albeit in a bit of an unorthodox manner. He must've been skilled indeed to make up for his lack of decorum.

The student that followed, unfortunately, had even less. Was it truly necessary to stand on the chair? He wasn't that short. The announcement that he was the House Leader of the Deer of all things raised the situation from odd to alarming. As much as Auberon would've liked to further vindicate the decision his ancestors made to split from their house and swear vassalage to the Kingdom of Faerghus, he wasn't quite willing to believe that no one from even the godless wastes of Leicester was a more suitable pick than House Riegan's court jester, though this Jorah might've won the position through his relation to the highest noble present as Auberon had. It certainly made the blond's own status feel far less of an honor, at any rate.

The woman who rose next was so utterly Jorah's opposite that Auberon nearly assumed he misheard when she mentioned her lineage. He sincerely hoped that the Riegans were managing a zoo in place of a family rather than the alternative of Clarissa being the sole island of sanity in a sea of Alliance eccentricity, otherwise Professor Roland's wish for friendly international relations looked poised to collapse before they'd even begun, to say nothing of the Adrestians. But it wouldn't do to speculate so judgementally in the Goddess' halls; Auberon would know them all by their actions soon enough, as would they know him. It was only right that he put an exceptional foot forward to introduce Faerghus to the other houses.

He stood, posture impeccable as he turned around to address the room behind him. Making the same speech twice always made him feel uncreative and boring, but he supposed introductions were important enough to repeat. "For those outside the kingdom, I am Auberon Casimir Galatea, heir to the Countship, appointed House Leader of the Blue Lions, and bearer of the Crest of Daphnel. For Professor Kaira's sake, I'd like to note I also enjoy prayer, along with the feeling of a weapon in my hands. Sometimes both at once." That sounded a bit dark in hindsight, but did the Book of Seiros not state that the sublime sword of the Goddess was entrusted to the faithful so that they might ward away evil? A prayer on one's lips with every swing seemed fitting enough to him. "I'm pleased and humbled to be working alongside you all. As Lady von Edmund said, the Goddess has brought us here for a reason, and I can think of no better compatriots than those She deems worthy of undertaking a task in Her name."

He dipped his head in a minimalistic bow toward the class before he returned to his seat. Clarissa was right, of course. The class roster was not coincidence but divine providence, worked through the mortal instruments of the Goddess here in the Church. Even the most... challenging among them had a place, and if a man could not better himself in the heart of Garreg Mach, where could he?

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