//CLOSED// November Registration

(OOC: All you guys need to do is walk in the door and wait to be assigned classes and dorm rooms. Don't create NPCs, especially ones that will process you. Just post who you are, what you look like, and wait in line for the next available registrar person thingy, I.E., me)

It was like holding a gun to her head, except it wasn’t a gun, it was a threat. “You are tew attend zis ‘skewl’, unles-s-s you nev’ar wish tew return tew me.” Those words echoed through her head and made her cringe, but why? While in Vermis’s care she always saw herself completely independent and able to fend for herself without his aid. So why was it the thought of never being able to return to her sire made her skin crawl?

Yoko waited in the shadows. Those violet eyes half open and in a state of constant day-dreaming. Though it was pleasant look- one not commonly seen in the females of today- there was a hint of overwhelming melancholy that threaten to swallow anyone near by. Her eyes rolled over the office. She’d forgotten how long she’d been waiting. She had left by cab that late afternoon heavily dressed in oblique clothing identical to that of a Muslim burka and was exhausted from lack of sleep. When she arrived to this school, she didn’t marvel over its beauty or grow giddy over meeting new people as she stepped out of the cab, the only thing on her mind was getting into the building as quick as possible. Even while sitting in the office, with the exception of a few bitter memories, the only thing on her mind was avoiding the sun. This was her first time out in daylight in centuries, yet she did not- could not- enjoy it.

Her purple eyes settled on the sun’s rays landing on the floor. The beam was inching closer to her as the star began to sink below the horizon. Nervously, she reached up and made sure the veil of the burka was securely hiding her face with the exception of her eyes. She might’ve been able to see in the dark, but it didn’t mean she could see through thick material. After a few intense minutes of staring at the cursed light, she moved over a chair and felt safer for the time being.

She came here with nothing but her name and burka. Vermis was sending her trunk of personal items over. A few strands of unruly gray hair curled out from under the veil. She dared not attempt to fix it due to the irrational fear of some prankster running in with a UV light at the moment she’d lower her hood. How much longer would she be made to wait in these conditions? Had they forgotten she was here or had she been overlooked? She had did her best to rush in and not seem obvious, though she highly doubt someone wearing burka was discreet.

"Ya know... the windows here are lined with UV protection similar to the balms offered around campus..."

A young man would be resting solely behind the counter, with barely an eye open, almost as if he was just now registering the girl that entered. Boots were the only thing initially visible from the counter top, as he was reclining in an office chair that pitched farther back than normal. Just between those black boots, which matched the counter top almost seamlessly, would be a pair of eyes sheepishly staring at her from between them. Upon her arrival, Riley waited patiently for the woman to approach the counter to pick up her paperwork. But instead, she took a seat nearby and was staring at the light in her hidden attire. He could safely draw conclusions based on what her reactions were. It would seem that it was her first time out in the daylight for a long time. Old memories began to flow within him from the time he was bound, temporarily, to the woman of the castle. He could at least take a guess at what she was... even if her clothing was a bit ostentatious for his liking.

"Feel free to take off the cabala whenever you are up to it. "

If she had some sixth sense or is able to read between the lines, he would appear as a normal human being with a pulse beating at a steady resting rate for a healthy human being. Other than the boots, the only thing off about this particular human was if she had a heightened sense of smell... she could taste the air around him for a sweet tingle that could be uniquely linked to solvent no. 9 which was used to clean armaments of various sorts. The chair would crackle as he adjusted himself in his seat while his boots fidgeted for him to sit more upright in the chair. Kicking away with his boots, he uprighted himself so that he could show his face and body completely towards the new comer. Cracking his neck, he would stare at her across the room where he would point towards the counter nearby.

"Paperwork is up here. And there is plenty to be filled out." Where his feet were rested a clipboard with all of the paperwork and pen necessary to fill out. With a calm manner, he scooted back to give him and the paperwork some space. No need to crowd, and the second she leaves he could get back to snoozing away all of his responsibilities.

Those violet eyes shot up from the sun’s rays filtering in through the window to the man behind the counter, and, for a moment, those melancholy eyes had turned into something hideous. The pupils had contracted into vicious snake-like slits. In all honesty, she hadn’t noticed the man before hand, but, when her hunger was sated, she tended to overlook a lot of obvious things. Her head cocked to the side as she examined him. Confusion flashed across those eyes as they began to dilate once more. She had clearly not been around many abnormal creatures such as herself, and the thought of windows being able to block UV? Preposterous!! This was some trick humans played on poor pyres to eliminate them!… But this male didn’t exactly smell the role of food (due to the solvent), and what benefit would he have to gain from lying to her? Regardless, his words registered, and she stood to begin making her way towards the table only to stop just as she reached the window of sun on the floor.

She didn’t trust this male completely… And why should she? She’d been fleeing from humans while at the same time hunting them for food. To actually sit down and converse with one as if they’d been friends seemed like suicide, but there was a time when she did trust these creatures. Yoko managed to expose a pale hand from under the burka. Cautiously, the finely manicured fingers inched closer to the light only to draw back for a brief second. It was amusing to watch her. It was like she was reaching out to a imaginary, venomous snake. As the light bounced off the first few inches of her skin, it was an intense moment for Yoko. She flinched as if expected some overwhelming amount of pain to consume her very being. It was no surprise to see the disbelief in her eyes when she did convince herself to look back at her hand.

Yoko stared in awe as her fingers wiggled in the light. The last time she’d ever been in sunlight was when she was --- No, that was a story for another time. Though she wasn’t completely done staring at her uninjured hand in fascination, she managed to pull herself away from the window. Her eyes fell on the man once more, curious, wide, and maybe even grateful.

Once again she made her way to the paper-work table. Yoko froze as she began glancing over the documents. FUUU, he wasn’t kidding!! She had to fill all of these out!? And there were even repeat questi-- wait, those were copies for other people. A soft cough left Yoko as her cheeks flushed under the burka from embarrassment. Yoko got to work. Her writing seemed identical to Blackadder type font, yet she didn’t have to take the time to make sure she was writing the letters correctly. It came naturally. Some answers were standard and a few disturbing. Cannibal wasn’t exactly something anyone would want to see as an answer for anything! The good news was that there was ‘but’ in that sentence.

Yoko’s line of work came to a halt though. Classes? What could one possibly learn when one basically lived history? Math- 1 human + 1 vampire = variable depending on the situation. English… she was able to read and fill out the forms. Science, like she was really going to sit down and have a conversation with someone over Schrodinger’s cat. Formalities, not even going to explain why it was a bad idea.

Yoko’s eyes turned to the male once more, head slightly tilted. Maybe he could recommend something? A muffled sound came from under the burka. Yoko’s brows furrowed together in frustration. She couldn’t even understand herself talk. She reached up and pulled the veil off, revealing the wolf in sheep’s clothing that was hiding underneath. She appeared to be a woman in her late teens. A fresh 19, perhaps. The majority of her hair had been swept up with a brush and pulled back with a blue ribbon that stuck out like a sore thumb in her gray hair. Despite the slight darkening in the lateral corner of her eyes and the fine lines of fatigue that stretched out from the medial corner of her eyes, she had a rather beautiful face. It was subtle. No fine chin or sharp cheeks. Everything flowed and matched perfectly like a doll’s, and, unlike her eyes, her face didn’t have the same hint of melancholy. She seemed inviting, especially seeing how her plump lips were curled in a faint, almost transparent, smile… Disgusting bitch.

“Pardon.” Her voice was a bit deep. The type of voice that could lull a child to sleep without any attempt on its owner’s behalf. “I didn’t plan ahead… What classes would you recommend for someone who-” She pauses for a moment trying to think of a way to word the next part without giving away her true age. “may have taken similar courses in the past?” Her violet eyes broke from him and looked back down at the papers. “And what is this-- ‘Room Registration’?”

Seeing the girl react to his movements did bring a tiny bit of amusement. It would seem his silence granted him a moment's reprieve, but with a flick of her wrist she was back on her ball game. Seeing the contours of her face, along with her smooth skin, he could tell she was a beauty at first sight. Nonetheless, behind that beautiful face laced the eyes of something cold and unyielding... or at least, something much older than himself. By the way she carried herself and by her choice of words, she was probably much older than the way she appeared. A playful smile would creep itself onto his lips before vanishing after he scooted himself back towards her.
"I didn’t plan ahead… What classes would you recommend for someone who-” ... “may have taken similar courses in the past?”

Pausing for a minute, he would rack his brain for a class he took and actually took seriously here at Caislin Hallows. [color=blue] "For the longest time, many of our teachers were either Hiatus, missing, killed... or some random excuse that you can think of. Nevertheless, over the past several months a few have trickled in to fill the ranks. I believe we have a astrology teacher, a survival instructor, and... a few others." Scratching the back of his head, he would look around to see some kind of flier about the new classes that popped up... but alas, they were no where to be found. "I think there was a rumor for a music class and a Formalities class, but overall I haven't the slightest clue on what to suggest. I was... 'assigned' a few, but they aren't of any particular interest to me so I haven't showed up yet....except to the survival class. That one was rather interesting to say in the least." He wasn't trying to sound coy or like some kind of juvenile delinquent, it was just that some of the classes held no relative interest to him. If he didn't like them, he was not going to participate. That simple.

Watching her eye the paperwork, he caught her questioning the idea of a room assignment. Clearing his lips, he tilted his head to say... "Well, you only have a few options of places to stay here at Caislin Hallows. There are a few people who live in the town nearby, but most of the students and faculty live here on 'campus' in one of the dormitories. Pointing towards a map on the wall, blown up a bit to show the size of the place, he continued. "Part of your tuition is that you get to live in a small room in the castle. Your choice nevertheless. Some people like to walk the few miles it takes to get to the tavern from the grounds, but I wouldn't want to risk it at night." With that, he would take her paperwork and review it over. At first, it was hard to read as her hand writing seemed rather atrocious... but upon review he realized that it was a rather old style of writing. Almost archaic in the way the motions and curves of the words met the paper. He was surprised she could pull that off with a fountain pen; it was probably better if she had a feather with ink.

If he were to see somethings like 'Cannibal' in the paperwork, he would not take notice.

Picking up the pen, he scribbled down something on the paperwork. A letter 'A' for her room number. Vacancies before the semester was over, that was not charming at all.

"You are in room A, the first room on the women's corridor. Do you have any more questions?" He would politely wait, almost curious to listen in order to see if she had an accent in her voice.

Yoko listened. So, they didn’t really have a lot of courses to offer. Perfect! The quicker she can do something, the quicker she could leave. In all honesty, she had no clue as to why Vermis saw this as punishment. Were his hopes so high that she’d make the same mistake in the past to befriend mortals and immortals alike only to be ripped away from them through travel or death? Ha! He might’ve fooled her several times over her lifetime but she learned her lesson. “Music and survival sound nice,” she noted under her breath. She’d never heard of survival being taught. It should be interesting.

Yoko followed Riley’s finger to the map and continued to listen to what Riley had to say until a particular word caught her attention.

“T-Tuition?” Her voice quivered as the corner of her right eye visibly twitched. Vermis said nothing about tuition! He simply said for her to get her butt up there. Oh God, when did they expect the money? How much was it!? Yoko’s stomach churned. What if she had to get a job? She’d never had a job before!! What the hell does a person do there? “I-I see.”

“…Do you have anymore questions?”

Yoko stood there, biting her bottom lip like an anxious child with her brows furrowed together and pushed up slightly. Had Vermis handled all of this already? She was scared to ask, but that might’ve been what Vermis was doing during those early morning hours… she didn’t count on it. “No?…Maaaybe?” Yoko rotated her head in a small circle as she answered him like a student who was trying to give the teacher the right answer without being blunt with the wrong one. It was somewhat amusing to watch her once one got to know her. She was only a little under 400 years shy of her 1000 birthday, yet she sometimes acted the age she looked. Perhaps that was another reason why Vermis sent her here.

“Hnnnn.. No.” She concluded finally before looking to Riley. “I think I can manage from here. Thank you.” Yoko flashed him a faint smile before looking back to the map. Unfortunately, Yoko had no accent. She spoke slowly and clearly. The accent had disappeared with some of the pigment in her hair and eyes, but that isn't to say it couldn't come back if she was caught off gaurd. Those violet orbs scanned the layout of the building as she tried to memorize how to go from the office to her room. Her eyes stopped on the word Courtyard for a brief moment. It was a shame the entire facility wasn’t simply encased in a dome of this UV protection glass. She would’ve rather enjoyed walking outside again. When she was fairly certain she had the path mapped out in her head, she began making her way towards the door. Lidrooping, smile fading, she reminded herself of something. A truth of sorts.

It didn’t matter what kind of time she had… she needn’t get attached to anyone.
[Exit unless Mr.Simmons has something that will require her response]

As the girl approached the door, the quiet creak of the hinges announced its opening before she could even place a finger on the rattling handle. When the door had swung open most of the way, it came to a stop and hung on its hinges in silence, seemingly having opened of its own accord as if politely inviting the girl to step through on her way out of the office. A second later, the air shimmered, outlining the silhouette of a tall, thin man in the door fame. The right hand of the figure clutched the door knob while the fingers of his other hand fiddled with something on the wrist of the first. With the press of a button on an invisible bracelet, a man materialized. He stood at a height of six foot two, his lithe frame clad in silver armor that conformed to his body almost as perfectly as a tailored suit.

Azure eyes shifted towards the girl standing before him. His features, while masculine, held a beauty often reserved for the fairer sex. Not even a master sculptor could ever hope to carve the contours of the man’s countenance even if he has somehow obtained alabaster as smooth and milky as the man’s flesh. His thin yet fleshy lips parted and a gentle, harmonious voice spilled from them: “Good day.” The man paused and surveyed the room and its two inhabitants. “Oh, excuse me, Miss, were you on your way out? Please, allow me,” he offered, stepping aside while holding the door open for her to exit. The shifting of his frame, turned to the side as he attempted to admit her passed him into the area outside the office, revealed a pair of folded, metal limbs extending from the armor that stretched across his shoulder blades. In their dormant state, it was impossible to tell what purpose they might serve.

Standing there idly, he listened to her off handed nature of how she responded to his questions and ascertations. It was rather odd for him to guesstimate she probably acted much more than she appeared to be, already guessing off the tip of his hat she was a vampire. He doubted earlier on that she was not a freshly turned victim, but with her timid nature he was beginning to question his previous motives. With a loose ended dossier of the girl standing before him, he was merely awestruck by the fact he could not figure this girl out. She was either a good actor or someone who did not get out into the world that much. But for whatever reason, he could not question the incentives of any of these playful matters. He was there just to thrown pens and paper at people, and to make sure they didn't muck up the place.

But with the beautiful girl named Yoko (he snuck a look on the paper) leaving the room, it was time for some crazy armored-all dude to appear on the scene! “Oh, excuse me, Miss, were you on your way out? Please, allow me,” And he was chivalrous too! Might as well be a knight in shiny armor! Damn that armor is shiny... and thin??? It made Riley question his eye sight, wonder why the hell anyone would want to wear armor at this time of the year, and then it made Riley want to bang his head on the desk and pass out. So many questions and reasons to why this was happening, Riley could barely comprehend something more than an intelligent response to pass his lips for other than "....so.... that's a fancy get up." He didn't hate the man, but in his mind it was like bringing a nuke to a gun battle. Overkill just to get some paperwork done.

But he was far from the right to be able to question these things. Packing assorted armaments and traps within the room, he doubted the word 'overkill' was allowed in his vocabulary without reasonable Hypocrisy being slapped on his forehead. "Anyways, how can I help you?" The initial shock was slowly wearing off.

Yoko reached the door. Before she could grasp the handle to open it, the door seemed to open for her. The woman froze and drew her hand back. She was fine as the door open, but a bit puzzled as to why no one was there on the other end. Shrugging off the thought, she began to walk through the door only to abruptly pause. Something caught her eye, a shimmer. She grew curious, but the shimmer eluded her as quickly as it appeared. It must’ve been nothing. She had a long day. Exhaustion plagued her mind and was running ramped throughout her body, but, before she could begin on her way towards her room, Foras appeared in front of her. Yoko stepped back, slightly startled by such a dramatic entrance, but, when her nostrils flared and she caught his scent, it took everything in her to keep from lunging at him.

It wasn’t lust or hunger that made her want to lung at him, and he certainly wasn’t a face she’d seen before. No, it was rage: pure, primal rage. His scent had woken the beast in her, and it wanted nothing more than to rip him from limb-to-limb. He had been registered as a threat, but why? Riley didn’t smell like food, but she had interpreted him as friendly… Foras? Perhaps it was the voice, or the fact that his scent was far from ordinary unlike Riley‘s. It was like nothing she’d ever smelled before during her 660+ hundred years on this miserable planet.

Yoko stood still as Foras stepped aside. Her energy quickly went to keeping her face blank and eyes melancholy. “Thank you,” she said graciously, though there might’ve been a twinge of spite in her words. In return for Foras’s chivalry, her right foot swept in front of her and planted itself at an angel, her knees bent a bit, and her hands spread the sides of the burka out slightly (a curtsy).

“Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.” The saying shot through her head, and it was true. She dared not get on Foras’s bad side just yet until she realized his capabilities, and it was better to befriend threats than to have them coming at you with fire and pitchforks.

Yoko straightened out and began to make her way pass Foras‘s. She felt her soul lashing out at Foras like an animal whose cage had been rattled too much. Actually getting pass Foras’s brought a type of relief to her, and her anger began to diminish. Now… which was her room? The woman began to wander her way further away from the office and further away from Foras.

[Exit]

One of Forrasis’s thin, dark eyebrows twitched upward, a subtle slip of emotion, when he noticed the flaring of the girl’s nostrils. There was a hint of hostility, and he was unsure of what had caused it. Despite whatever feelings lurked behind the girl’s almost innocent façade, she played her part well and a small smile tugged at the corners of Forcas’s lips when she dipped in a curtsey. He returned the gesture in kind, tucking his free left arm under his waist and bending across it in a bow. In no way did the metal suit in which he was garbed limit his motions, nor did it clink or clatter when he moved. As Foras lifted from the obeisance, he allowed her passage through the open doorway. His head turned as she passed, watching her go with muted curiosity.

After the girl had left, Focras turned to the apparent aide. “All in due time, introductions first, if you please,” answered the man as he stepped forward from the doorway. His gauntleted fingers slipped off the knob, letting the heavy door swing shut behind him as he walked further into the room. “My name is Forrasis, and who might you be, young sir?” offered the man in introduction as he extended his right arm towards the assistant. It was not the modern handshake he sought though, and if Riley reached out to take Forcas’s hand, the Fallen’s fingers would slip past those of the young man and clasp his forearm. Three pumps would follow, during which the strong, armored grip of the man would guide Riley’s arm to dip and rise. Even though Foras’s hand was gloved in metal, it never caught upon cloth or scraped across skin, depending upon how far Riley’s sleeve extended down his arm.

If Riley paid attention to the arm that reached for his, he would discover the trinket that encircled the man’s wrist that had more in common with a wristwatch than a bracelet. Even though it was set perfectly in a recess carved into the armor, it was obvious that the object could be removed. Upon its face was a simple chronograph with a button beneath it and a few knobs upon the side. If he watched carefully, he would detect three delicate arms spinning to the silent passing of seconds, minutes and hours, and a fourth arm that slowly winded itself in the reverse. A small vertical bar was set in the clock face, and while it was currently darkened save for a thin line of red light at the bottom, the light slowly trickled upward to fill the bar minute by minute like a test tube being filled by the steady drip of a stagmometer. After rising one quarter of the height of the bar, the light flickered to neon green.

“This is Caislin Hallows, is it not? A university of sorts?” he asked as he withdrew his hand. “If so, I am here to seek employment,” he continued while his crystal clear eyes focusing on the young man. “Is it you to whom I should be speaking? I mean you no disrespect, but you seem young to be an administrator.” There was no barb in the man’s voice, simply curiosity as to why one so young seemed to be running things in the stead of some more obvious figure of authority.

Upon the girls leave, Riley would actually get off his ass and stand up to greet the man. Watching the man extend a civil greeting, Riley would take possibly a cautious glance at Forrasis, rather curious to see why the hell he wanted to hold hands. But then it was just his precautionary nature to extend such a civil touch on the grounds of his own mental discomforts. Instead of rejecting the man, he would reach forward to grasp the man's hand. "Riley..." but instead, the man grasped his forearm... sending a warning vibe up and down his spine. Riley's other hand, his left, would jiggle slightly underneath the table in anticipation for a counter attack. But when the toss never came, but just a mere greeting, Riley would accept the shake and just be a bit bewildered by it. Oh well, as long as the man is not trying to kiss him then they can be on fair terms.

He missed the fancy "wrist watch" as his eyes were locked with Forrasis, almost as if Riley was trying to read the man's intentions. He would listen to the man as he spoke his peace, letting Forrasis tell Riley what he needed to know before speaking.

"Is it you to whom I should be speaking? I mean you no disrespect, but you seem young to be an administrator.” A man with a civil tongue, Riley would withdraw the hand and lean back to sit down behind the large desk. "There is no one here with that title, nor there will probably be. Hell, half of my orders and complaints are little notes I get from time to time. Not much to do here other than process paperwork. Easy job that pays the bills. " Wincing at that, he made himself sound like an old man. "Anyhow, I am the only man here. If you are who you say you are, then all of your stuff should be in working order once you fill out the preliminary paperwork. " Reaching underneath the desk, he would withdraw a clipboard similar to the students, but contained many more pages to be filled out. Placing it in front of the man, he nodded and continued. "Just fill this out and I'll assign you a room if you would like to take your lodgings here." Straight and to the point. Nothing much else to be said there.

Pointing to the back, there was a table where he could sit to fill it all out with a comfy chair. Or he could toss the paperwork off to the side and start roaming the halls as he pleased; not as if Riley was responsible for anything outside that room.

After the handshake, Forrasis’s gauntleted grasp released Riley’s forearm. Without even the faintest of metallic rattling, the man lowered his arm to his side. The young man’s casual cussing caught the Fallen’s attention and both dark eyebrows lifted just a little before lowering again, though the rest of his expression remained blank. “Yes, well, we all do what we have to, to get by,” he offered in understanding, beginning to adopt a more casual tone as he adjusted to his conversational partner.

When Riley proffered the clipboard upon which pages and pages of forms were attached, Foras reached out and plucked it from the desk. “Still using paper? Pity,” commented Forcas as he began scanning the paperwork. Despite the normal clumsiness associated with gauntlets, his lithe, metal-sheathed fingers effortlessly flipped through the pages. Forrasis perused every page before freeing the pen from its nitch and began filling it out, still standing in front of the desk. The pen point scraped across the page with quick, calculated movements. As he filled out the blanks, Foras took no more than fifteen seconds on each form until in record time, he had finished the last.

A click of the pen announced the completion of the paperwork. He set the clipboard with its forms down upon the desk, twisting it around to face Riley. Neat, crisp script decorated the former empty spaces on each page. Flipping through them, Riley would find that Forcas was applying for the position of ‘Professor of Mathematical Sciences’. He would also discover that Forrasis had checked off that he would need a room in which to stay. “Is that all, Riley? Do I need to do anything else?”

Waiting patiently for the man to finish, he would not question why the hell the man did not take off his gauntlets before he started scribbling away on the paper... nor ask how the hell he was writing in such a neat way that made him question the dexterous nature of his own hands. It was almost as if the man never took off the armor. God forbid if the man worked out and slept in that armor, or worse, showered and did the nasty. But, whatever kinks or quirks Riley's own imagination was piling up upon, this place had a silent 'don't ask, don't tell' policy that wafted itself around the atmosphere. Nevertheless, he just went with the flow like he did everything else. Battle scars healed rapidly in this place, and the destruction of the grounds and fights go amiss rather frequently. He was astonished he was not kicked out for the amount of explosive materials he had in his room.

Can't really blame the man if he wanted to parade around in armor all day.

Once the man was finished with his paperwork, he would wait for it to be placed on the desk or in his hands. Once this was done, he merely glanced over the material and wrote down something on the piece of paper near the 'room and board' section of the documents. "Teacher of Mathematics. I wouldn't finger you for a computational kind of guy." Tossing away the paperwork into a growing pile of 'to be processed', he turned to the man and continued. "Now, your room number is K but you will have adjoining room L as well. The wall divider between the rooms should be gone, so you should feel free to move in whenever. Just keep in mind you have two doorways now. " With a nod, he cracked his neck and shrugged his shoulders. There was not much else to do. "Any more questions?" He would wait patiently for a response or a retort, but he would not give the man all day to ponder on his possibilities. It was getting close to the end of the day, and he had a lot of other work he wanted to be doing.

If only Forcas could delve into the mischievous mind of the young man in front of him, he might have been appalled or intrigued by the thoughts that lurked there—with the Fallen, it was always hard to tell what his true reaction was with how well he maintained a placid expression. Forrasis’s blank façade finally broke with a faint twitch at the corner of his lips when Riley commented about the potential professor’s computational abilities.

The man’s smirk grew, stretching further across his lips. “’K’? Kappa,” said Forcas as he looked at Riley, “used to denote curvature.” A second later after he had spoke, as if reciting a line from the text book, Foras’s smirk dwindled. The Fallen realized that the likelihood that the young man knew of what Foras spoke and also that there was any significance in the assignment was slim. “It will do, thank you, Riley,” stated Foras as he extended a hand to receive his key. After he had received the metal trinket, he glanced at it. “So very primitive,” he breathed in disappointment before his fingers closed over it like silver petals of a bloom shutting out the moonlight.

“I am sure we will meet again, Riley. It has been a pleasure. Do take care.” The Fallen turned, exposing his armored back with its two folded metallic limbs to Riley, and headed for the door. Forrasis’s footfalls were nearly silent, hardly the metallic clank that one would expect from metal boots.

[Exits Unless Stopped]

equipped runes:
red / Warrior rune.
yellow / Phero rune.
blue / Fortune rune.



Distol had long been ushered out of the vehicle like a feared delivery. The hinges encountered yet another trial as a chilled thumb and forefinger decorated the handled, applied the necessary swivel and drove it inwards. Such a cycle save the 'swivel' was performed to suppress further intrusion of the season's climate, though Distol was well-prepared for the glacial embrace of November. His fingers begun to unfasten the three-buttons that secured the black pea-coat over his torso. Afterwards the fitted overcoat endured and embraced his strapping shoulders despite the granted freedom. Beneath the coat was a long-sleeved white shirt which bore no design nor image. Battling the bitter wintry also was a simple pair of dark wash jeans which managed quite well.

A series of remarkable things succeeded his entry. For instance his eyes traversed the available room entirely. His brief moments of observation left an invisible speckle of every noticeable piece of paper, poster, advertisement and equal points of interest. Advancements within his mind adapted as everything was suddenly memorized. If questioned he could reiterate the length of each passage in perfection.

Distol lacked caution. He took a few composed steps towards the desolate secretaire, though no receptionist appeared within view. Self-entertainment became mandatory as his left hand soon gripped and opened a small brochure that contained statistics, instructions and facts about the institute for the gifted. Despite browsing over the leaflet his right hand punctured the coat's dextral, central pocket and publicized the peculiar sphere which became fumbled throughout his fingers. Once apprehended he lobbed the fulvous-colored orb into the air. Once caught he flung it a second time, then a third, then a fourth and so on until he would be met by a clerk so enrollment would be established.

Looking towards the door, Vixen nibbled on her lip. Her brown hair following over her shoulders. " Why am I here?" She grumbled under her breath before looking down at her arms, bruise forming all the way up to her shoulder." Oh yeah, I got kicked out of my old school." She rolled her eyes walking into the room, her icy blue eyes scooping out those in the room. She was not here to socialize, she was never one to do so. Looking towards the man that seemed to be in charge, she tried not to laugh." Well, this must be a fantasy job. Get to sit around and speak to young girls all day." She placed her hand on her hip, her blue jeans riding low on her hips. A fairy tattoo placed on the bottom of her stomach, fading beneath her jeans. She clicked her tongue, her metal ring clicking against her teeth. " Now, do I have to talk to you to get my schedule?" She raised her eyebrow some." And my room?" Vixen nibbled on her lip before looking at the others in the room. "Hmmm" She did not care that she was being rude, she wanted to get in, get out. She yawned some looking down at her blood red nails.

Time and time again, all of the students for the school ushered themselves in and left as they pleased. Forcas, the new teacher for... math, appeared to be the most civil people of the group today... even if his outfit was rather overkill for the requirements of this mundane task of getting paperwork done. Still, he nodded to the man as he left, giving him a slight wave after he handed the man his key. No sense holding the crazy dude in armor up all night, he had shit to do as well. He wanted to get back to being anti-social by reading the book that was underneath the desk and zoning out with ear phones... or sleeping.

But before he could do that, two other individuals appeared in his presence. One was another new comer, this one had a strange way in his step. It brought him some internal confusion, as if he should be wary of a new possible opponent in his midst. Nevertheless, another chica entered the abode...but this one seemed familiar. He could not pin point her name exactly, as he only saw her a very few times on campus. Nevertheless, it would seem that they were going to have a few returnees this month. Hopefully she will be able to stick around long enough to get things in gear.

"Alright lads and laddies, step on up and get your paperwork." The first part rolled into a bit of playful accent, while rolling into a Southern United states twang. This was lost on Riley. Nevertheless, he kept standing until the two got their paperwork. "Returnees still have to fill out their paperwork again, since their original files are put into storage and are not accessible at this time. " Course, he could have made that up and didn't want to go find it. But it was truthful in the extent that it would be easier and faster just to fill one out than to go hunt one down.

The pamphlet merely held his interest for a moment until it was dumped back inside the canister where it had been plucked from. The reprocessed activity of his right hand involving the orb continued until the squeak of the door was broadcast once more. Distol's body pivoted in the direction of the doorway and his eyes probed the girl fleetingly until, once again, interest did not prevail. As if schemed the clerk materialized --perhaps Distol needed to actually sleep without being haunted by the hallucination. This often arrived when music was engaged as it seemed to repel such deviltry. Actions involving the orb ceased as he listened and gifted the mysterious clerk with his attention . . . at least when he spoke of something that involved him.

"Alright lads and laddies, step on up and get your paperwork." All he desired to hear.

Distol's now thawing fingers gripped the first set of paperwork and also treated himself to a complimentary pen most likely desired to be returned. Distol would elect those composed steps once more as the stroll to a desk which he soundlessly sat in. Colorless ends of colorless hairs attempted to hinder his sight though with a effortless shake of his head no longer did the white hair badger him. His left hand managed the pen while he rotated the orb through his digits but he eventually judged the process insufficient and permitted the simple circle authority to rest upon his knuckles. The assignment to complete the paper took him roughly thirty seconds and if not for his esteemed possession and the desire to observe it the task would've ended possibly sooner. Distol stood and approached the employee's desk where he returned both the pen and the paperwork which was now decorated with his information. "What is next?" his tone could easily be considered uninspired and hollow, but in his defense he was not exactly animated over becoming a student.

Humming softly, she looked down at her nails. She hated it here, she tried to get out before, yet she was dragged back. Biting her lower lip she looked up at riley. She was a lot different from the year before. A lot had happen over the summer. She tilted her head some before smiling." Miss me Handsome?" She tilted her head some. She yawned a little before looking to the other boy that was in the office. He was tiny compared to her brothers. Going back to humming she started to softly sing. She stopped singing, looking towards the door. Grabbing one of the papers she started to fill out the paper work once more. Finished she placed it on the desk, looking towards Riley Vixen laughed some. " Hopefully I can behave this year." She laughed walking towards the back of the room to wait for permission to leave.

For a while, he waited a bit just to see if the gal in the room would take notice to the paperwork that needed to be filled out, but it would seem for the present moment that she was contempt at first with waiting for bleach boy to wrap up his stuff first. Nevertheless, she came to life once whitey got a hold of the paperwork, commenting on days past with a hint of glee. He remembered her from before, vaguely, but he at least remembered her name. "I wouldn't call myself Handsome, Vixen." Asshole was more like it. "But welcome back to Caislin Hallows. " As he shifted towards whitey, he merely shrugged and took the clipboard he presented and began to examine the documents thoroughly. He was highly surprised the man was able to finish the documents so quickly, nevertheless he did not question it as he reached under a desk to pull out a room key for the man. Taking out his own pen, he scribbled on the 'office use only' section before tossing the paperwork away into a file for later.

"Room I on the male wing is your room. Have a pleasant stay." He was going to be a brick and not answer any of his questions.

Turning towards Vixen, he took her paperwork and scribbled on her stuff as well. He didn't shift demeanor, nor show a tide of playfulness he usually sported. Making a small note, he would toss the paperwork towards the 'to be sorted' filing system of just stacking clipboards on top of each other. "Vixen, your room is still N on the female wing. I am pretty sure it has not been cleaned out yet, so everything should be as you left it." Sometimes the headmistress knew when people were coming back, but it was not his job to try to figure out when rooms were cleared officially or not. Maybe some little goblins come out and just wipe the area clean without him knowing. Nevertheless, he nodded to Vixen and patted and casually crossed his arms before asking. "Need anything else Vixen?" He could answer some of her questions, if she had any.

She sighed a little with the paper work and her key thrown at her." Of course!" She nodded her head some before standing." Nope, I remember for last year." Grabbing her bags she saluted Riley before walking out the door." And yeah you're right. I wouldnt really call you Handsome either." She shrugged walking out of the room. She yawned walking away from the registration room.

Distol found the miniature conversation quite delightful. Personally he avoided relations with those he did not know very well. It was unusual for him to even have inquired of other things that needed to be concluded, but oddly he felt propelled to as if it was required for him to enlighten the employee on his own line of work. More often than not he would've tested his tolerance and lingered until direction was appointed. He convinced himself that he found the encountered two rather distasteful. His thinking, though pitiless, was principled. For instance the girl had 'sized him up' without insightful reasoning. To be overcritical and judgmental was to be faulty. Perhaps that was a lesson her previous keepers neglected. The male was both airy and carefree. His undertaking was unimportant to him and his lacking notice was evident. Distol adopted their inclination and through utter arrogance provided a smug and if the remaining desk worker desired a final glance he'd identify the first hint of Distol's persona.

"Room I on the male wing is your room Have a pleasant stay."

How fake, how spiteful. Had envy already become born? Distol found quietude in his favor and seized the key as it rest on the desk. Somehow the haughty female had maneuvered past him and left first, however, if unchallenged Distol's feet conducted him to the door and he departed as well though not in pursuit of course.

]Exit].