Post by Mila on Apr 23, 2013 1:38:26 GMT -5
Jed knew this path, and knew it well. He and Maya Banks had been an item, on and off with no status to tie them, since their mutual Fourth year imprisoned at Hecate, both for deeds deemed unlawful by The Council. There had been times when he had been caught on his trek secluded to Arcadia, from his shared room, to the girls dormitory down the opposite corridor – notably, on the other side of the Faculty hallway. With practise came perfection, and Jed soon had it down to a fine art. In darkness he left, knowing the hour to be at least past the fourth hour of the early, early morning, though he'd not taken the time to look. Without even waking the other girls in her room, he had bid Maya farewell. Until morning. With the stealth of the predator he rounded the corner, marked the steps, and headed down the corridor until making it to the fourth door on the right. It was open. He hadn't been careless enough to leave it ajar, on his exit? It must have been one of the others. Either headed to another girl's bed, or the bathroom. Every student shared a room with four. Jed, after a recent brawl between 'house mates' over racism and segregation, two of their number had temporarily been moved. Inside, Noah Wolfe and Frederick Fawkes, otherwise known as 'Freddy' should both be inside, asleep. Without even a moment's hesitation over the open door, Jed pushed it open and moved for his bed. His foot met something on the floor. A slight stumble with nought to worry about, and yet something brought his fingers fumbling for his lighter, bringing the slightest glow to the room with a flick and a switch. Noah had been first. Somewhere in the midst of a dream wherein he had been a part of the long awaited release of Bioshock 3, only to have his Mother and.. Professor Weir make a strange appearance, that, in dreamland, seemed perfectly explainable. Somewhere in the midst of that dream, he had died. Chest carved in the semblance of a murder straight from The Eye of God. Freddy had woken and managed to put up a slight fight but, half-asleep, surprised and unarmed he was no match for the one who wished only to slay him. Both Sixth years of Arcadia. Both dead. The murderer was gone. Jes stumbled back from the scene, his heart hammering in the broad expanse of his chest while one hand slammed the lighting of their room, illuminating more carefully a sight that rose bile to his stomach. It had all been very quick. His shout for aid, the arrival of first students and then their Coordinator. Much like in Magnus, for Charlemagne Quinn. The Professor in charge removed the boys, and girls with a head count to the common room, and notified Luthor. With already all the boys well aware of the murder, there was no use in attempting to slide this one under the rug, and so, at approximately 4:45 am on Wednesday morning, all students were called by a spellbound 'intercom' to report immediately to the Great Hall for an emergency assembly. Professors led the way. Students were given no time to dress, and so stumbled half-asleep down the steps as requested, in nought but their pyjamas.
[Calliope] Those bright glacial hues struggled to remain closed, even against the stark voice that rang heavily in her ears. A low groan snaked passed those plump lips, and she rolled over, tugging her pillow closer against her skull, and burying her face into it's smothering warmth before her right hand shot out, idly flailing at the device, in a wild attempt to silence that never ending death screech. It was with a rather triumphant slap, that her hand managed to connect with the electric device, silencing the beast...for now. Wait...no...that wasn't her alarm. It was an intercom. Of course, that wasn't to say that the damage had not already been done. Once more, another low growl poured off those lips, and she sat up, locks mussed by sleep, and eyes still half lidded. It was indeed, the look of one crawling from death, and not something, the free world should see. It was with that mindset, that the Greek Femme lifted her arms high above her head, a mewl of pleasure echoing off of her still slightly barren walls, When those lengthy arms fell heavily to the bed top, knocking up that delicate puff of dust into the air, it was almost possible to watch them dance about in their swirling manor. Or, it would have been, at least, were calli actually wearing her glasses. Slowly, and begrudgingly. She tugged on her panda slippers, and made her way out, hair haphazardly slung into a pony tail. She stifled a yawn, her hand covering her mouth as she walked. Fucking early morning bull shit. No sense in all this rabble so early. Something better have been on fire. Sleepy eyes followed over the student body, tracking individuals for a moment, seeking out familiar faces to be miserable with.
[Lara] In the bed beside Calliope's there was the girlish grunt of irritation, a roll and a groan. There were perhaps a thousand and twenty-two better ways to wake up, than to the sound of Headmaster Luthor's voice, but whence she'd fully woken, Lara thanked her lucky stars that she had thought better than too ignore pure, unbridled exhaustion and make for the forest that night. For, if she was still yet to return, her absence would have been noted in the headcount performed by Professor Blaze as the House of Magnus congregated in the Common room prior to their descent, down the stairs and to the Great Hall. Her waist-length cascade of silken chocolate hung loose, tousled provocatively by a deep slumber. About the feminine curvature of her petite form was only a delicate pair of cotton shorts, form-fitting and as minuscule as the camisole about her torso. Both were blush-pink, and well matched to the faint color at her cheeks and natural stain of plush lips that found themselves in a worrisome frown. The last time an emergency assembly had been called, Lara found Charlemagne Quinn. After she had been calmed and forced to join the others, they had been told that the obviously murdered girl had committed suicide. Few had believed the belle when she swore it wasn't self done. Worse, were those who spread rumours about she being one to end the girl. One of those with blood, already staining their idle hands had struck again. This was no accidental feat, a mistaken outburst on the ice by Izak Zalewski. It wasn't a 'punishment' taken too far by a Professor, or a deathly sentence from the hands of The Council themselves. It was The Eye of God, she was sure of it. Bare feet padded along the throng, of perhaps herd of Magnus students while whispers sounded the way. Hecate is under siege. No, no, we're all being released. No way, man, I'm telling you humans have figured us out and there's a war. World War III, us against them. Another suicide? Lol. You think they figured out who killed Cheyenne and Colt? I wonder if another teacher has been caught with a student, you know like, Vostok? Striking emerald rolled heavenward in disdain, but the girl was as full of wonder as the others, bumping past Charlie as she moved beside Calliope, to whom she spoke. “It's a murder. I am sure of it.” Now, the observant beauty cast her sights for Mr Beaujangles. With students still congregating and many of the higher Professor's darting into a room for discussion, one could only expect that they and Luthor were still discussing what the students should, and should not be told.
[Emmelia] Something was wrong. Emmelia could feel the palpable crackle of dread wreathing in her gut like a maggot, infesting her thoughts with irrational panic. Yet, within the dim confines of her bedroom, Emma could find nothing amiss. Her tattered book case, full to the last space with novels she had collected throughout the years, the mahogany dresser littered with smiling photographs and scattered jewelry tossed haphazardly upon its surface, the recently worn clothing deposited into the chair beside her bedroom door, the damp towel left on the floor after a shower. Everything was as it always was, albeit a little messy. The walls of her space were silent, however, mocking her racing heart beat and the soft inhalations of breath, a silence so complete that she couldn’t help thinking of it as the eye before the storm. Her limbs protested with her as she removed herself from the tangled blankets and slipped silently off of the bed, willing her to remain motionless with fear. Emma refused to heed it, bare feet padding softly upon the chilly hardwood floors toward the bedroom door, forcing it open and observing the quiet hallway with celadon hues. Once again, she found nothing that would inspire the fear that grew ever worse, ominous goose bumps forming along alabaster flesh as her legs carried her onward past the doorway. The shadows within the hallway appeared menacing, standing out darker than ever before against the white washed walls as though willing themselves to be hiding places for all the unknown entities of her horror. How she made it all the way down the corridor without running, a barely contained scream cemented within her throat, she could not say, though the urge to do so had her muscles quivering with the forced repression. Emma spied the closed door at the end of the hall. It looked harmless, yet she could feel it radiating with malicious intent, as though all her worst fears were just beyond its solidity waiting for her. Emmelia’s gaze roamed downward as something captured her awareness and, just beneath the door, oozed a heady crimson soaking into the floorboards. Blood! The tension that gripped delicate musculature like a taut bow string finally snapped and the withheld scream exploded from her throat… Emmelia shot up from the four poster bed with a whimper incapable of being suppressed, bed sheets tightening unpleasantly over bare, damp flesh, dark hair leaping over her slender shoulders with the momentum of the jerking movement. With trembling hands she covered her face, willing the dark images plaguing her mind away, her heart beat ravaging against the inside of her rib cage. As the seconds ticked into minutes, Emma finally realized that she was alone in the room. Taking a deep breath and releasing it, willing her body to calm from its subconscious attack, she tore off the groping sheets, stood and rummaged among the articles of clothing she’d recently left along the floor. Finding the pair of blue pajama shorts, she tugged them on, slipped into a pair of black flats and headed down the stairs where she had detected the urgency of multiple young voices. Those of her house were already filing out of the room, still adorned in bed clothes, some whispering of death, but she was hard pressed to make out any of the details. Once out of the dormitory, the group intermingled with the rest of the houses within the corridor, all moving quickly toward the Great Hall. Lara’s comment, though the femme herself wasn’t known to Emma, was heard among the thrum of silent conversations. “A murder?” She inquired, navigating only close enough to hear the girl’s response, if she had more than a nod to give in return. Hopefully, though, she was more specific.
[Beau] Out cold, Beau was comfortably tangled amidst a pile of sheets and fabrics. Head buried beneath a pillow, bare feet peeking out from under the covers, and a stray arm dangling off the side of the relatively small bed. Exhaustion didn’t do how he felt any justice. It had been at least a solid week of lack of sleep, late nights, and a heavy course load. Extracurricular, tutoring for as long as that had lasted, and extra research on a persistent patch of scales he still couldn’t will away. Having fallen asleep with the last hour, the fifth year Mer had just about delved into the recuperating phase of REM sleep when a very personal wakeup call echoed about his currently dormant head space. Like a bear woken up to early from hibernation, there was a muffled sound of displeasure. He would have gladly rolled back over, and hid beneath the blankets and scattered pile of text books, had the hand of another not torn away his bundle of dream inducing warmth. With the textiles gone, a boxer brief sporting Beau would curled up tighter, shriveling up within himself in groggy defiance. It couldn’t be time to get up, not yet? “What time is it?” He attempted to groan, rolling over and lifting his head out from under the pillow to find that the light was on much to his chagrin. Severely squinting, he sat up, watching vaguely as his roommates tugged out sweatshirts and pants. Eventually one of them spoke up, a serious look on his face. “Luthor’s calling a meeting. I think it’s another one of those—“ Another chimed in. “Dude, if you say it’s another murder, I swear I’ll backhand you.” The former made a face and gave Beau a knowing look before making his way for the door. “Hurry up.” The third grumbled, on his way out leaving him to tug on shorts and a t-shirt before dragging his still very half asleep self down the hall of the Tritus dorms. His hair was askew, dark circles haunted his still lidded baby blues, and no sincere attempt was made to stifle any yawns that popped up. Only as he trekked towards the Great Hall, did the hushed whispers begin to reach his ears, enlightening him to the situation at hand. War. Murder. Intrigue. You name it, someone was spreading it. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Beau tried to think through the haze of exhaustion as he found himself amongst some sixth years, the only one he recognized being Lara. The two others by her side were unfamiliar faces, and thus he traipsed over quietly, falling in step with the group, with only a vague shrug of his shoulders to offer as input. The sultry Siren would be met with a sleep ridden half smile that would soon extend to the others in greeting, despite the grim situation. After a moment, he’d clear his throat and cant his head. Murder? “..Who?” Why? ||
[Blair] :: The newest recruit to the staff fold is pacing restlessly up and down the classroom before she strides over to shut the door. It’s not before long that she returns to that nervous state of agitation that one feels only around the time of the full moon. When was it due anyway? That blasted lunar cycle is a curse. She could control her wolf but this is an entirely new environment for her. What’s to say that there wouldn’t be triggers and outside influences that she couldn’t quite manage? What do people do around here when they’re forced to change anyway? Blair knows there are more than a few werewolf students and staff members so… what do they do? There strikes a thought that maybe she should seek out Maddox and ask him about it. He’s about the only one she knows around here anyway. A second review ticks a blank box with that option. The man was not speaking to her and just pretended she wasn’t there when forced to be in the same vicinity as her. No, Maddox was a difficult man but scorned and angry? Yeah… A noise soon distracts her from her thoughts and she becomes aware of a commotion outside of the classroom door. Blair merely moves over to open it, peeking out to see students being led along to the Great hall by other staff members. She raises a brow in curiosity before slipping out to seamlessly join the crowd as if she had been there all along. No doubt she’d soon hear all about it. This assumption had been right, of course as she catches snatches of whispers amongst the students. Still, she hadn’t ascertained the full story, not until she made into the Great Hall and accosted another staff member. Blair tries to hide that look of horror as the explanation tumbles out. “Well… fuck.” Of course, she had caught the speculation amongst the whispering students. That doesn’t really strike confidence in the woman. The Eye of God. She hadn’t heard much more than that but that name… Let’s just say that Blair has had some… personal experience with them.::
[Helena] It was in the midst of a dream wherein her mind's eye observed the aftermath of another murder, that Luthor's voice had invaded her consciousness. Unlike that which woke the students, this one came earlier, and was far more informative. There had been no 'suicide' cover for the Professor's and Staff, when it came to explanations of the untimely demise of Charlemagne Quinn nor words on expulsion, for the unhinged, Christian Blanc and Violette Croix. The students were at least aware of the deaths when it came to the two students Cheyenne and </u>Colt</u> but, there was more than met the eye. Lara Locke's attack, brought more than another incident for, by the perceptive premonitions brought to the femme, gave her an inkling of another murderer. There were two. Even now, Helena couldn't be sure if the hunter was student, staff or an outside whom had managed to breach the hexes time, and time again. Like clockwork she rose, without so much as a grumble or grunt of sleep-ridden discomfort as she passed into the waking world. Over the slip she'd worn in slumber, the woman donned a corporate blouse and pencil skirt, nylons and heels. She would not be amongst those with dishevelled an appearance. That simply wasn't Weir's style. On leaving the room, she strung her hair into a French knot and then, awaited the quick assemble of her Tritus students. One headcount later, and Weir was leading the pack to the Hall to meet the other three of the Houses. She wondered, which student's face she'd not see in class again. The whimsical, trouble-prone Mila of Crux? Either of the three popular blondes of Arcadia? Mallory Carter in her Second year Mathematics class? Seer she may be, but this Oracle was in the dark. For the moment. As a Coordinator, she was of course welcome amongst the impromptu meeting between Luthor and the higher members of staff. Into the room she went.
[Calliope] ”Nomízete óti étsi ? “ she asked, still caught half in her sleepy delrium, she was still speaking in that native tongue. Catchning herself however, she would turn those eyes back to the floor, <i>”You think so? Tha boroúse na symveí “ Again, she swapped to Greek. ”I wouldn't be surpirsed. The way things are going...After what all has happened, it doesn't take a stretch of the mind to think something like that.” she'd slip her arm into Lara's and then nod her head as if mulling over the ideas. Things had been happening lately, that she didn't care to explain. Nevertheless, she would keep her ears tuned into what ever needed to be said. She was making a pointed effort to ignore Charlie, whom had been in her path just moments ago. ”What do you think they're gonna say? Think they're really gonna release us?
[Lara] Delicate fingertips brushed tiresomely at a chocolate curl that seemed intent on obscuring her worried vision. Her striking, feline-esque optics of vibrant emerald took to a methodical search of the room. With over one thousand students alone, and enough staff and faculty to keep them, the Hall was most obviously filled to capacity. Particularly, for no students seem calm enough to sit. With excitement in the air, most were whispering conspiracy theories, wondering just why they had been called her – it had not happened since the 'suicide' in September, no? But, with nothing to clarify (save for the slowly spread rumors and whispers from the belatedly arriving Arcadia house), these words were still speaking of war, expulsions, dismissals and other, ridiculous dramatics. Lara who had seen the body of the girl last year, and had acquired a distinct obsession and desire to contact the dead, after the attack on her person, could think only of murder. It was for this reason she searched. Not only for Beau but for all of her friends. Indeed, the rampant beating of her heart that brought her breast to a gentle heave time, and time again, calmed only slightly with the sight of familiar face, after face. Mila, speaking to Jake. Ignatius, with Erinn, Emri and Leila. Calliope's voice beside her, drew her from the search. <i> “Mmmn,” she said, well accustomed to the frequent shifts into Greek, and far too commonly doing the same in French to ever pick at the habit. “I just hope..” What? That is wasn't a student? Or a Sixth year? The fact that she'd prefer it to be the unknown face of a little First year was shameful. “I just hope our friends are okay.” The belle hooked arms with the girl, Beau where are you? Then, the frantic belle shook her head in a wave of brunette curls. “They would never dismiss us from Hecate.” Most of them were 'criminals', no? The ignoring of Charlie went past her notice, for in that moment keen orbs of emerald spied a face she'd been dying to see. “Beau,” came her half-choked whisper. She half untangled herself from, half dragged Calliope with her and then rushed to the Fifth year's side, caring little about the thousand pairs of eyes to watch her slip her slim around around him and press her head to his chest. With relief, she said, “No one I know.” With Luthor and the others leaving the room, he moved to the head of the dais and spoke loudly, in an Aether enhanced voice that needed no microphone. “Be seated!” Students, that was. The man commanded authority, but there was such havoc in the room, kids just seated themselves at any table – rather than the one required of their House. Lara quickly sat at the Tritus table that Beau, Emmelia, Charlie and Calliope were all close by.
[Beau] Subtly falling in stride with the group of sixth years, Beau had tossed in his quiet and subdued inquiry and left it at that. He was tired, and he figured so was just about everyone else, so the curt conversation pieces he was to offer were likely to be limited at the moment. Again lifting a hand towards his face, he attempted to rid it further of the sleep that plagued his weary features. Unsuccessful, it was safe to say that the Siren’s near panicked sputter caught him off guard. It didn’t quite click as to why she was so terribly worried, unless this murder rumor really held some merit. Which, Lara apparently seemed to think it did. Before he knew it, he was bum rushed by the vaguely frantic femme as her delicate hands and thin arms snaked about his form. He blinked a bit, staggering the briefest of steps into a disgruntled and groggy fellow student. A temporary road block in the sea of students, Beau stood still, half glancing at Calliope before his arms returned the gesture with intent to comfort. Lara’s words registered, and he swallowed, ducking his head slightly and resting his chin atop her head. “It’s alright.” He murmured reassuringly, despite being terribly unsure of the situation at hand. In the moments following, they were ushered into the Great Hall, their little group taking the seats on command. All eyes fell on Luthor, and ever bashful, Beau scooted his seat up close to the table and extended a hand towards the shaky Siren. He’d never seen her this nervous, this rattled, and thus his hand was acting as an anchor to keep her somewhat grounded. ||
Calliope gave a small grunt, as she was pulled away, her steps almost tripping as she was dragged behind the little woman, having to widen her gait to keep up. Finally, a reprieve from all of that dragging, and she was released, as the woman all but speared herself into the arms of Beau, who was quick to wrap his arms around her, and offer what comfort he could. She'd only offer him a small smile. She didn't have much else to do, though, she did do a quick scan of the room, trying to put a pin on everyone she'd been hunting. Regardless of her distaste for him, she was glad to see that Charlie was alright. Even if he was a skirt chasing man whore When they were told to sit, she did so, taking a seat on the opposite side of Lara. Though there was a great deal of commotion, Calli didn't pay it much mind, and instead, opted to help soothe the other. She'd lightly speak, ”Lara, let me fix your hair for you. It keeps falling into your face.” Sure, it seemed silly, but Calli liked it when someone played with with her hair, she found it soothing. Maybe it would help the nervous belle too. If granted that permission, she'd start that easy motion of combing through those silky locks with her fingers, careful not to tug, as she made quick work of braiding the girls hair closely against her skull, and then down her back. It wasn't hard. She had nimble fingers. Perhaps from all the time she spent playing the harp. That braid was quickly folded into a neat rose, and tied off with the barrage of hair ties kept at Calli's wrist. ”There. Now you can see where you're going.”
[Lara] In his arms, the weight lifted from the slim line of her weak shoulders. A popular belle, she could only say for certain that her close friends were safe – those, spied within the Hall just now. As for the rest? Familiar faces, acquaintances and class mates she shared assignments and occasionally her meals with, were yet to be accounted for. Only time would tell. As they sat, one hand found itself anchored by Beau, her body shifting at Calliope's suggestion, allowing the girl better access to the mane of silk chocolate. “Alright,” she said, a glimmer of a smile surfacing at her cupid-bow lips. It was soothing for her, even as Luthor continued to speak, “Good Morning, students. I am sure you are aware, that there is reason for this Emergency Assemblage..” His cold, dead eyes stole the whispers from their throats for even the most daring of them, wouldn't defy this man so blatantly. “A great crime has been committed in these walls.” He sounded angered. The redhead's whispers met her ears, and she attempted a smile, whilst tucking the braid over one shoulder so that her fingertips could run over it, and the paint-brush end. She leant backward into the girl. “This morning.. Noah Wolfe and Frederick Fawkes, Sixth years of Arcadia House.” An Earthen Mage and a Were.. “Did unto each other a great injustice. It was through the segregation of their races, that they allowed a rift to form between them. To form, and to build.” Their were fights and tousles between races always. Though there were few that mingled (PC's), the majority of the student base stuck to their own, despite the rule in which placed only one member of a race, in the shared rooms. “They engaged in a physical altercation which is strictly, against Hecate's rules, and the rules of the Outer world both Aether, and Untouched. It is for this reason I speak not with sympathy for those that fell, in saying that they managed, through the abuse of their gifts.. to end both of their young lives.” Lara had been shell-shocked. She knew both these boys, shared many General and Aether classes with both, and even a few Specialty subjects with Noah, the Mage. This didn't sound like them at all. Surely the two were not friends, but both were fairly.. well, they were just like everyone else. Occasionally pulled into fights but never.. This couldn't be true. Lara was sure of it. It brought her back to the moments when traumatised, she sat, and listened as Luthor informed the student body that Charlemagne's death was suicide. “There will be no memorials for these rule-breakers – their bodies, are to be sent to their respective families. We ask that you remain in the Hall until the breakfast hour is complete, then you may return to the dormitories to ready yourselves for the school day. There will be no exemption from classes.” Not even from friends. “You are dismissed.” To socialise and sit, within this locked room until the bodies are cleared and the school scoured for evidence and clues
Calliope was happy to support her friend, her hand steady on the others shoulder, reminding her of the support she had. As she listened, her mouth slowly turned into a frown. Those words...they were all the worst kind of lies. She felt it deep in her core, and slowly, that distaste radiated through her Touch. She was quick to break contact, knowing well and full that she didn't have quite the control she wanted over that particular gift. She started mumbling something under her breath as her hands fisted over her thighs. She stood, once Luthor left the room, she was quick to make a move, looking down at Lara. ”This is a load of crap, and we both know it. I'm not about to just sit here, and let them feed me lies. You can stay here, but I'm about to get some answers.” and then, just like that, something took over. She pulled in a deep breath, and cleared her throat. ”If you help me, this would be so much easier.” And then, she would take in a series of rapid breaths, the sound rasping in her throat, a wheezing sound when she tried to exhale. What was this? Well, it was fairly well known that Calli suffered from fairly severe asthma, and it just so happened that her inhaler was in her dorm. Not in here. She defiantly held her hand out to Lara, and if taken, then she would walk with the girl towards the exit. When stopped, it was up to Lara to explain. She was in no situation to speak. While it was partial acting, forcing herself had actually caused a bit of a flare up. So they really would need to get her inahler...and some clothes, before investigating further.
[Beau] Luthor spoke what were supposed to be words of clarification and reassurance among other things. He told of rifts among races, building tensions, and the ultimate demise of both Mage and Were. Beau listened with furrowed brows, thumb moving in soothing circles about Lara’s grasped hand. He didn’t know the two deceased, but he wasn’t stupid or terribly naïve. Fights broke out now and again, purebloods vs half breeds, snobby mages hazing the ‘lesser aethers’ and whatnot. But even as far as Hecate went, none of the students really seemed dumb enough to lose their lives of such trivialities. Then again, Beau was a diplomat generally, and he didn’t often come face to face with peers like Walsh. Still – both dead at the hands of the other? A simultaneously knock out – not one around to notice, or call for help? So many variables and so many questions unanswered. The room erupted with hushed voices while the fifth year kept quiet. Things didn’t necessarily add up, and when they were left to their own devices, Beau swiveled giving a unconvinced look to both Calli and Lara. Weathered and weary, he rested a free arm about the table, shoulders slouched to match his demeanor and how he felt. He shook his head, conveying his thoughts silently. “That doesn’t make sense…” He breathed, mostly to himself before cerulean orbs fell on the seemingly frozen in place form of Lara. She looked utterly dazed, lost in thought, distant. He blinked, leaning forward with concern to touch his fingertips to her shoulder with evident concern. “..Lara.. Vous allez bien? ” He asked softly before quite suddenly Calliope was reaching out in gasps. Exhausted, distracted, and overall confused the part where she conveyed that this was all an act had escaped Beau. Thus he went a little wide eyed; glancing around quickly, prepared to shout and find out if anyone had an inhaler. Before he could do so, the two femme’s were on the move, leaving him at the table, frazzled and uncertain as they traipsed for the exit. ||
[Calliope] Those bright glacial hues struggled to remain closed, even against the stark voice that rang heavily in her ears. A low groan snaked passed those plump lips, and she rolled over, tugging her pillow closer against her skull, and burying her face into it's smothering warmth before her right hand shot out, idly flailing at the device, in a wild attempt to silence that never ending death screech. It was with a rather triumphant slap, that her hand managed to connect with the electric device, silencing the beast...for now. Wait...no...that wasn't her alarm. It was an intercom. Of course, that wasn't to say that the damage had not already been done. Once more, another low growl poured off those lips, and she sat up, locks mussed by sleep, and eyes still half lidded. It was indeed, the look of one crawling from death, and not something, the free world should see. It was with that mindset, that the Greek Femme lifted her arms high above her head, a mewl of pleasure echoing off of her still slightly barren walls, When those lengthy arms fell heavily to the bed top, knocking up that delicate puff of dust into the air, it was almost possible to watch them dance about in their swirling manor. Or, it would have been, at least, were calli actually wearing her glasses. Slowly, and begrudgingly. She tugged on her panda slippers, and made her way out, hair haphazardly slung into a pony tail. She stifled a yawn, her hand covering her mouth as she walked. Fucking early morning bull shit. No sense in all this rabble so early. Something better have been on fire. Sleepy eyes followed over the student body, tracking individuals for a moment, seeking out familiar faces to be miserable with.
[Lara] In the bed beside Calliope's there was the girlish grunt of irritation, a roll and a groan. There were perhaps a thousand and twenty-two better ways to wake up, than to the sound of Headmaster Luthor's voice, but whence she'd fully woken, Lara thanked her lucky stars that she had thought better than too ignore pure, unbridled exhaustion and make for the forest that night. For, if she was still yet to return, her absence would have been noted in the headcount performed by Professor Blaze as the House of Magnus congregated in the Common room prior to their descent, down the stairs and to the Great Hall. Her waist-length cascade of silken chocolate hung loose, tousled provocatively by a deep slumber. About the feminine curvature of her petite form was only a delicate pair of cotton shorts, form-fitting and as minuscule as the camisole about her torso. Both were blush-pink, and well matched to the faint color at her cheeks and natural stain of plush lips that found themselves in a worrisome frown. The last time an emergency assembly had been called, Lara found Charlemagne Quinn. After she had been calmed and forced to join the others, they had been told that the obviously murdered girl had committed suicide. Few had believed the belle when she swore it wasn't self done. Worse, were those who spread rumours about she being one to end the girl. One of those with blood, already staining their idle hands had struck again. This was no accidental feat, a mistaken outburst on the ice by Izak Zalewski. It wasn't a 'punishment' taken too far by a Professor, or a deathly sentence from the hands of The Council themselves. It was The Eye of God, she was sure of it. Bare feet padded along the throng, of perhaps herd of Magnus students while whispers sounded the way. Hecate is under siege. No, no, we're all being released. No way, man, I'm telling you humans have figured us out and there's a war. World War III, us against them. Another suicide? Lol. You think they figured out who killed Cheyenne and Colt? I wonder if another teacher has been caught with a student, you know like, Vostok? Striking emerald rolled heavenward in disdain, but the girl was as full of wonder as the others, bumping past Charlie as she moved beside Calliope, to whom she spoke. “It's a murder. I am sure of it.” Now, the observant beauty cast her sights for Mr Beaujangles. With students still congregating and many of the higher Professor's darting into a room for discussion, one could only expect that they and Luthor were still discussing what the students should, and should not be told.
[Emmelia] Something was wrong. Emmelia could feel the palpable crackle of dread wreathing in her gut like a maggot, infesting her thoughts with irrational panic. Yet, within the dim confines of her bedroom, Emma could find nothing amiss. Her tattered book case, full to the last space with novels she had collected throughout the years, the mahogany dresser littered with smiling photographs and scattered jewelry tossed haphazardly upon its surface, the recently worn clothing deposited into the chair beside her bedroom door, the damp towel left on the floor after a shower. Everything was as it always was, albeit a little messy. The walls of her space were silent, however, mocking her racing heart beat and the soft inhalations of breath, a silence so complete that she couldn’t help thinking of it as the eye before the storm. Her limbs protested with her as she removed herself from the tangled blankets and slipped silently off of the bed, willing her to remain motionless with fear. Emma refused to heed it, bare feet padding softly upon the chilly hardwood floors toward the bedroom door, forcing it open and observing the quiet hallway with celadon hues. Once again, she found nothing that would inspire the fear that grew ever worse, ominous goose bumps forming along alabaster flesh as her legs carried her onward past the doorway. The shadows within the hallway appeared menacing, standing out darker than ever before against the white washed walls as though willing themselves to be hiding places for all the unknown entities of her horror. How she made it all the way down the corridor without running, a barely contained scream cemented within her throat, she could not say, though the urge to do so had her muscles quivering with the forced repression. Emma spied the closed door at the end of the hall. It looked harmless, yet she could feel it radiating with malicious intent, as though all her worst fears were just beyond its solidity waiting for her. Emmelia’s gaze roamed downward as something captured her awareness and, just beneath the door, oozed a heady crimson soaking into the floorboards. Blood! The tension that gripped delicate musculature like a taut bow string finally snapped and the withheld scream exploded from her throat… Emmelia shot up from the four poster bed with a whimper incapable of being suppressed, bed sheets tightening unpleasantly over bare, damp flesh, dark hair leaping over her slender shoulders with the momentum of the jerking movement. With trembling hands she covered her face, willing the dark images plaguing her mind away, her heart beat ravaging against the inside of her rib cage. As the seconds ticked into minutes, Emma finally realized that she was alone in the room. Taking a deep breath and releasing it, willing her body to calm from its subconscious attack, she tore off the groping sheets, stood and rummaged among the articles of clothing she’d recently left along the floor. Finding the pair of blue pajama shorts, she tugged them on, slipped into a pair of black flats and headed down the stairs where she had detected the urgency of multiple young voices. Those of her house were already filing out of the room, still adorned in bed clothes, some whispering of death, but she was hard pressed to make out any of the details. Once out of the dormitory, the group intermingled with the rest of the houses within the corridor, all moving quickly toward the Great Hall. Lara’s comment, though the femme herself wasn’t known to Emma, was heard among the thrum of silent conversations. “A murder?” She inquired, navigating only close enough to hear the girl’s response, if she had more than a nod to give in return. Hopefully, though, she was more specific.
[Beau] Out cold, Beau was comfortably tangled amidst a pile of sheets and fabrics. Head buried beneath a pillow, bare feet peeking out from under the covers, and a stray arm dangling off the side of the relatively small bed. Exhaustion didn’t do how he felt any justice. It had been at least a solid week of lack of sleep, late nights, and a heavy course load. Extracurricular, tutoring for as long as that had lasted, and extra research on a persistent patch of scales he still couldn’t will away. Having fallen asleep with the last hour, the fifth year Mer had just about delved into the recuperating phase of REM sleep when a very personal wakeup call echoed about his currently dormant head space. Like a bear woken up to early from hibernation, there was a muffled sound of displeasure. He would have gladly rolled back over, and hid beneath the blankets and scattered pile of text books, had the hand of another not torn away his bundle of dream inducing warmth. With the textiles gone, a boxer brief sporting Beau would curled up tighter, shriveling up within himself in groggy defiance. It couldn’t be time to get up, not yet? “What time is it?” He attempted to groan, rolling over and lifting his head out from under the pillow to find that the light was on much to his chagrin. Severely squinting, he sat up, watching vaguely as his roommates tugged out sweatshirts and pants. Eventually one of them spoke up, a serious look on his face. “Luthor’s calling a meeting. I think it’s another one of those—“ Another chimed in. “Dude, if you say it’s another murder, I swear I’ll backhand you.” The former made a face and gave Beau a knowing look before making his way for the door. “Hurry up.” The third grumbled, on his way out leaving him to tug on shorts and a t-shirt before dragging his still very half asleep self down the hall of the Tritus dorms. His hair was askew, dark circles haunted his still lidded baby blues, and no sincere attempt was made to stifle any yawns that popped up. Only as he trekked towards the Great Hall, did the hushed whispers begin to reach his ears, enlightening him to the situation at hand. War. Murder. Intrigue. You name it, someone was spreading it. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Beau tried to think through the haze of exhaustion as he found himself amongst some sixth years, the only one he recognized being Lara. The two others by her side were unfamiliar faces, and thus he traipsed over quietly, falling in step with the group, with only a vague shrug of his shoulders to offer as input. The sultry Siren would be met with a sleep ridden half smile that would soon extend to the others in greeting, despite the grim situation. After a moment, he’d clear his throat and cant his head. Murder? “..Who?” Why? ||
[Blair] :: The newest recruit to the staff fold is pacing restlessly up and down the classroom before she strides over to shut the door. It’s not before long that she returns to that nervous state of agitation that one feels only around the time of the full moon. When was it due anyway? That blasted lunar cycle is a curse. She could control her wolf but this is an entirely new environment for her. What’s to say that there wouldn’t be triggers and outside influences that she couldn’t quite manage? What do people do around here when they’re forced to change anyway? Blair knows there are more than a few werewolf students and staff members so… what do they do? There strikes a thought that maybe she should seek out Maddox and ask him about it. He’s about the only one she knows around here anyway. A second review ticks a blank box with that option. The man was not speaking to her and just pretended she wasn’t there when forced to be in the same vicinity as her. No, Maddox was a difficult man but scorned and angry? Yeah… A noise soon distracts her from her thoughts and she becomes aware of a commotion outside of the classroom door. Blair merely moves over to open it, peeking out to see students being led along to the Great hall by other staff members. She raises a brow in curiosity before slipping out to seamlessly join the crowd as if she had been there all along. No doubt she’d soon hear all about it. This assumption had been right, of course as she catches snatches of whispers amongst the students. Still, she hadn’t ascertained the full story, not until she made into the Great Hall and accosted another staff member. Blair tries to hide that look of horror as the explanation tumbles out. “Well… fuck.” Of course, she had caught the speculation amongst the whispering students. That doesn’t really strike confidence in the woman. The Eye of God. She hadn’t heard much more than that but that name… Let’s just say that Blair has had some… personal experience with them.::
[Helena] It was in the midst of a dream wherein her mind's eye observed the aftermath of another murder, that Luthor's voice had invaded her consciousness. Unlike that which woke the students, this one came earlier, and was far more informative. There had been no 'suicide' cover for the Professor's and Staff, when it came to explanations of the untimely demise of Charlemagne Quinn nor words on expulsion, for the unhinged, Christian Blanc and Violette Croix. The students were at least aware of the deaths when it came to the two students Cheyenne and </u>Colt</u> but, there was more than met the eye. Lara Locke's attack, brought more than another incident for, by the perceptive premonitions brought to the femme, gave her an inkling of another murderer. There were two. Even now, Helena couldn't be sure if the hunter was student, staff or an outside whom had managed to breach the hexes time, and time again. Like clockwork she rose, without so much as a grumble or grunt of sleep-ridden discomfort as she passed into the waking world. Over the slip she'd worn in slumber, the woman donned a corporate blouse and pencil skirt, nylons and heels. She would not be amongst those with dishevelled an appearance. That simply wasn't Weir's style. On leaving the room, she strung her hair into a French knot and then, awaited the quick assemble of her Tritus students. One headcount later, and Weir was leading the pack to the Hall to meet the other three of the Houses. She wondered, which student's face she'd not see in class again. The whimsical, trouble-prone Mila of Crux? Either of the three popular blondes of Arcadia? Mallory Carter in her Second year Mathematics class? Seer she may be, but this Oracle was in the dark. For the moment. As a Coordinator, she was of course welcome amongst the impromptu meeting between Luthor and the higher members of staff. Into the room she went.
[Calliope] ”Nomízete óti étsi ? “ she asked, still caught half in her sleepy delrium, she was still speaking in that native tongue. Catchning herself however, she would turn those eyes back to the floor, <i>”You think so? Tha boroúse na symveí “ Again, she swapped to Greek. ”I wouldn't be surpirsed. The way things are going...After what all has happened, it doesn't take a stretch of the mind to think something like that.” she'd slip her arm into Lara's and then nod her head as if mulling over the ideas. Things had been happening lately, that she didn't care to explain. Nevertheless, she would keep her ears tuned into what ever needed to be said. She was making a pointed effort to ignore Charlie, whom had been in her path just moments ago. ”What do you think they're gonna say? Think they're really gonna release us?
[Lara] Delicate fingertips brushed tiresomely at a chocolate curl that seemed intent on obscuring her worried vision. Her striking, feline-esque optics of vibrant emerald took to a methodical search of the room. With over one thousand students alone, and enough staff and faculty to keep them, the Hall was most obviously filled to capacity. Particularly, for no students seem calm enough to sit. With excitement in the air, most were whispering conspiracy theories, wondering just why they had been called her – it had not happened since the 'suicide' in September, no? But, with nothing to clarify (save for the slowly spread rumors and whispers from the belatedly arriving Arcadia house), these words were still speaking of war, expulsions, dismissals and other, ridiculous dramatics. Lara who had seen the body of the girl last year, and had acquired a distinct obsession and desire to contact the dead, after the attack on her person, could think only of murder. It was for this reason she searched. Not only for Beau but for all of her friends. Indeed, the rampant beating of her heart that brought her breast to a gentle heave time, and time again, calmed only slightly with the sight of familiar face, after face. Mila, speaking to Jake. Ignatius, with Erinn, Emri and Leila. Calliope's voice beside her, drew her from the search. <i> “Mmmn,” she said, well accustomed to the frequent shifts into Greek, and far too commonly doing the same in French to ever pick at the habit. “I just hope..” What? That is wasn't a student? Or a Sixth year? The fact that she'd prefer it to be the unknown face of a little First year was shameful. “I just hope our friends are okay.” The belle hooked arms with the girl, Beau where are you? Then, the frantic belle shook her head in a wave of brunette curls. “They would never dismiss us from Hecate.” Most of them were 'criminals', no? The ignoring of Charlie went past her notice, for in that moment keen orbs of emerald spied a face she'd been dying to see. “Beau,” came her half-choked whisper. She half untangled herself from, half dragged Calliope with her and then rushed to the Fifth year's side, caring little about the thousand pairs of eyes to watch her slip her slim around around him and press her head to his chest. With relief, she said, “No one I know.” With Luthor and the others leaving the room, he moved to the head of the dais and spoke loudly, in an Aether enhanced voice that needed no microphone. “Be seated!” Students, that was. The man commanded authority, but there was such havoc in the room, kids just seated themselves at any table – rather than the one required of their House. Lara quickly sat at the Tritus table that Beau, Emmelia, Charlie and Calliope were all close by.
[Beau] Subtly falling in stride with the group of sixth years, Beau had tossed in his quiet and subdued inquiry and left it at that. He was tired, and he figured so was just about everyone else, so the curt conversation pieces he was to offer were likely to be limited at the moment. Again lifting a hand towards his face, he attempted to rid it further of the sleep that plagued his weary features. Unsuccessful, it was safe to say that the Siren’s near panicked sputter caught him off guard. It didn’t quite click as to why she was so terribly worried, unless this murder rumor really held some merit. Which, Lara apparently seemed to think it did. Before he knew it, he was bum rushed by the vaguely frantic femme as her delicate hands and thin arms snaked about his form. He blinked a bit, staggering the briefest of steps into a disgruntled and groggy fellow student. A temporary road block in the sea of students, Beau stood still, half glancing at Calliope before his arms returned the gesture with intent to comfort. Lara’s words registered, and he swallowed, ducking his head slightly and resting his chin atop her head. “It’s alright.” He murmured reassuringly, despite being terribly unsure of the situation at hand. In the moments following, they were ushered into the Great Hall, their little group taking the seats on command. All eyes fell on Luthor, and ever bashful, Beau scooted his seat up close to the table and extended a hand towards the shaky Siren. He’d never seen her this nervous, this rattled, and thus his hand was acting as an anchor to keep her somewhat grounded. ||
Calliope gave a small grunt, as she was pulled away, her steps almost tripping as she was dragged behind the little woman, having to widen her gait to keep up. Finally, a reprieve from all of that dragging, and she was released, as the woman all but speared herself into the arms of Beau, who was quick to wrap his arms around her, and offer what comfort he could. She'd only offer him a small smile. She didn't have much else to do, though, she did do a quick scan of the room, trying to put a pin on everyone she'd been hunting. Regardless of her distaste for him, she was glad to see that Charlie was alright. Even if he was a skirt chasing man whore When they were told to sit, she did so, taking a seat on the opposite side of Lara. Though there was a great deal of commotion, Calli didn't pay it much mind, and instead, opted to help soothe the other. She'd lightly speak, ”Lara, let me fix your hair for you. It keeps falling into your face.” Sure, it seemed silly, but Calli liked it when someone played with with her hair, she found it soothing. Maybe it would help the nervous belle too. If granted that permission, she'd start that easy motion of combing through those silky locks with her fingers, careful not to tug, as she made quick work of braiding the girls hair closely against her skull, and then down her back. It wasn't hard. She had nimble fingers. Perhaps from all the time she spent playing the harp. That braid was quickly folded into a neat rose, and tied off with the barrage of hair ties kept at Calli's wrist. ”There. Now you can see where you're going.”
[Lara] In his arms, the weight lifted from the slim line of her weak shoulders. A popular belle, she could only say for certain that her close friends were safe – those, spied within the Hall just now. As for the rest? Familiar faces, acquaintances and class mates she shared assignments and occasionally her meals with, were yet to be accounted for. Only time would tell. As they sat, one hand found itself anchored by Beau, her body shifting at Calliope's suggestion, allowing the girl better access to the mane of silk chocolate. “Alright,” she said, a glimmer of a smile surfacing at her cupid-bow lips. It was soothing for her, even as Luthor continued to speak, “Good Morning, students. I am sure you are aware, that there is reason for this Emergency Assemblage..” His cold, dead eyes stole the whispers from their throats for even the most daring of them, wouldn't defy this man so blatantly. “A great crime has been committed in these walls.” He sounded angered. The redhead's whispers met her ears, and she attempted a smile, whilst tucking the braid over one shoulder so that her fingertips could run over it, and the paint-brush end. She leant backward into the girl. “This morning.. Noah Wolfe and Frederick Fawkes, Sixth years of Arcadia House.” An Earthen Mage and a Were.. “Did unto each other a great injustice. It was through the segregation of their races, that they allowed a rift to form between them. To form, and to build.” Their were fights and tousles between races always. Though there were few that mingled (PC's), the majority of the student base stuck to their own, despite the rule in which placed only one member of a race, in the shared rooms. “They engaged in a physical altercation which is strictly, against Hecate's rules, and the rules of the Outer world both Aether, and Untouched. It is for this reason I speak not with sympathy for those that fell, in saying that they managed, through the abuse of their gifts.. to end both of their young lives.” Lara had been shell-shocked. She knew both these boys, shared many General and Aether classes with both, and even a few Specialty subjects with Noah, the Mage. This didn't sound like them at all. Surely the two were not friends, but both were fairly.. well, they were just like everyone else. Occasionally pulled into fights but never.. This couldn't be true. Lara was sure of it. It brought her back to the moments when traumatised, she sat, and listened as Luthor informed the student body that Charlemagne's death was suicide. “There will be no memorials for these rule-breakers – their bodies, are to be sent to their respective families. We ask that you remain in the Hall until the breakfast hour is complete, then you may return to the dormitories to ready yourselves for the school day. There will be no exemption from classes.” Not even from friends. “You are dismissed.” To socialise and sit, within this locked room until the bodies are cleared and the school scoured for evidence and clues
Calliope was happy to support her friend, her hand steady on the others shoulder, reminding her of the support she had. As she listened, her mouth slowly turned into a frown. Those words...they were all the worst kind of lies. She felt it deep in her core, and slowly, that distaste radiated through her Touch. She was quick to break contact, knowing well and full that she didn't have quite the control she wanted over that particular gift. She started mumbling something under her breath as her hands fisted over her thighs. She stood, once Luthor left the room, she was quick to make a move, looking down at Lara. ”This is a load of crap, and we both know it. I'm not about to just sit here, and let them feed me lies. You can stay here, but I'm about to get some answers.” and then, just like that, something took over. She pulled in a deep breath, and cleared her throat. ”If you help me, this would be so much easier.” And then, she would take in a series of rapid breaths, the sound rasping in her throat, a wheezing sound when she tried to exhale. What was this? Well, it was fairly well known that Calli suffered from fairly severe asthma, and it just so happened that her inhaler was in her dorm. Not in here. She defiantly held her hand out to Lara, and if taken, then she would walk with the girl towards the exit. When stopped, it was up to Lara to explain. She was in no situation to speak. While it was partial acting, forcing herself had actually caused a bit of a flare up. So they really would need to get her inahler...and some clothes, before investigating further.
[Beau] Luthor spoke what were supposed to be words of clarification and reassurance among other things. He told of rifts among races, building tensions, and the ultimate demise of both Mage and Were. Beau listened with furrowed brows, thumb moving in soothing circles about Lara’s grasped hand. He didn’t know the two deceased, but he wasn’t stupid or terribly naïve. Fights broke out now and again, purebloods vs half breeds, snobby mages hazing the ‘lesser aethers’ and whatnot. But even as far as Hecate went, none of the students really seemed dumb enough to lose their lives of such trivialities. Then again, Beau was a diplomat generally, and he didn’t often come face to face with peers like Walsh. Still – both dead at the hands of the other? A simultaneously knock out – not one around to notice, or call for help? So many variables and so many questions unanswered. The room erupted with hushed voices while the fifth year kept quiet. Things didn’t necessarily add up, and when they were left to their own devices, Beau swiveled giving a unconvinced look to both Calli and Lara. Weathered and weary, he rested a free arm about the table, shoulders slouched to match his demeanor and how he felt. He shook his head, conveying his thoughts silently. “That doesn’t make sense…” He breathed, mostly to himself before cerulean orbs fell on the seemingly frozen in place form of Lara. She looked utterly dazed, lost in thought, distant. He blinked, leaning forward with concern to touch his fingertips to her shoulder with evident concern. “..Lara.. Vous allez bien? ” He asked softly before quite suddenly Calliope was reaching out in gasps. Exhausted, distracted, and overall confused the part where she conveyed that this was all an act had escaped Beau. Thus he went a little wide eyed; glancing around quickly, prepared to shout and find out if anyone had an inhaler. Before he could do so, the two femme’s were on the move, leaving him at the table, frazzled and uncertain as they traipsed for the exit. ||