Mason Crawford
@Heathen
Mason had spent the rest of the boat journey taking photographs. He hadn't really intended on following through with the idea, which had been born from a need to escape the conversation on the upper deck, but now that he was here with his camera it seemed like a fabulous idea. At least it would distract him until they docked at the island, where he hoped his attention would be grappled by other things.
As they drew closer still to the island, the details of the academy became more apparent. It was a large and quite beautiful building, with architecture that towered upwards and suitably ancient-looking brickwork to match; the whole building was, Mason felt, more influenced by the Germanic fortresses of Old England, and not the more Gothic designs that emerged in the years that followed. Regardless of its inspirations, the building looked magnificent on camera; the sea reflecting the sun's natural light and casting a pleasant warmth over the whole façade.
Soon enough, the boat was moored and the students were allowed to disembark in an organised fashion. Mason was pleased to have his feet on solid ground for the first time in hours; as enamoured as he was with the sea, there was only so long he could spend on a ship before he began to feel both ill and restless. His hand was shaken by a plethora of staff members, none of whom stood out enough for him to register their faces or learn any names. The whole affair was quite plastic in that none of the welcomes felt particularly sincere; it was an orchestration of policy. Mason didn't care much as soon as they were lead through the academy and into a large, outdoor auditorium.
Mason sat towards the back, surrounded by people he did not recognise; he wasn't sure if they had been on the boat with him or whether some students had arrived previously. Regardless, it did not matter, as there wasn't any time to strike up much conversation; like the rest of his short time on the island, everything moved with swiftness and efficiency. A pale woman with a pinstriped suit and an air of authority took to the stage, accompanied by a man who looked similarly tough. He half-listened to the speeches they gave; the logic thinker in him wanted to know the details, but the prevailing artist grew bored of the protocol and was distracted by the beautiful scenery. He absorbed most of the important information.
Before they had gotten too comfortable, all the students were whisked into a grand dining hall where a feast of sorts was being served. The situation made him uneasy and, though his stomach growled in protest, he decided against queuing for any food. He visited the beverage station and served himself a strong black coffee, taking a sip of the dark drink and wincing. It was as unappealing as it always was. With his coffee in hand, he began to search the hall for a place to sit, but it was predictably packed with students and the feat proved difficult.
As he hoped to spot Casper, or perhaps Kana, his eyes were pulled to one table in particular. The man who had been on stage a few moment earlier was sat there, but this wasn't what captured Mason's gaze. A grotesque, fleshy body sporting a helmet that could have been taken straight from an 80s sci-fi movie chatted with the other diners, its voice robotic and cold. Mason spotted one of the twins from the boat chatting to the fourth guest at the table, who wore a hood. Though, as he looked up at the girl, Mason caught glimpse of his face and his mind recoiled. He was as strange as the creature beside him, near feature-less aside from a cracked, sore-looking mouth. He didn't even have eyes! After the initial second of shock dissipated, Mason's imagination began to churn and his curiosity urged him to sit at the table. Alas; it was already very full and engaged in conversation. He didn't want to intrude.
He spotted another table directly opposite this one, at which only one man sat. Mason spotted him smile at the strange-looking people across from him and felt at ease. If this guy could accept them so freely, Mason saw little reason that he might be rejected. He hoped this became a recurring theme; everyone in the school was as equally freakish as the other. Hopefully there would be a sense of camaraderie.
"
Do you mind if I sit here?" Mason asked politely, before sitting anyway a few spaces away from the man. He couldn't see his face all-that-well, but he did spot a septum piercing. Mason touched his nose absent-mindedly as he sipped his coffee, remembering where his own piercing had been a year or so before. Looking for something to do until he was allocated a room, he flicked on his camera and started reviewing the shots he had taken on the boat.
