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"A new day is always welcomed."
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fєєlíng:
Relfective, Slightly nervous, Eager
lσcαtíσn:
Anthemia Academy
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"The world will end not in a bang, but in a meekly whimper by the cumulative efforts of the human race."

Asher heard those very same words reverberate through his eardrums daily, framing his thoughts and his actions, just where they came from he'd rather not say, but he slowly came to realize the day to day struggle of humanity would one day come to an end. He was absolutely sure of such a thing, though he knew regardless of the chances, humanity would fight, and resist the natural order of chaos that their world was built for, Daemons would not have the last laugh, and if we were going to inevitably go extinct it would not be at the hands of something so virulent, so corrupt. Asher perhaps found some humor in the fact that humans cast themselves in a wholly different light than their daemonic counterparts, while he, even at such a tender age, could only think that we were not so different from one another.

He cast a contemplative look over the sitting cup of caffeine in front of him, his phone was lighting up with news relative to sights of daemonic activity beyond the borders of Anthemia, and far and away from the Academy itself. Today though, it seemed that most of the student body had been sent on scouting missions today, especially with a spike in activity after the last few months. As diligent as they were toward their craft, Asher had yet to know any of the students of the Academy and actually found himself slightly alienated from the new generation of Hunters, these were definitely not the types he graduated with some decade ago, and his new position here was more or less heralded as some kind of divine blessing on the students here. Administration made quick work of making sure the students appreciated his tenure here, no doubt that the headmasters of the school found his presence to be a boon, more funding was never a bad idea, although for a man who's reportedly seen it all, Asher felt he had something to learn from students who lacked the experience he had, and for what's it worth he didn't believe the Daemon scourge would be resolved in his lifetime, much like it wasn't in his parents own, but he'd be damned if he didn't try.

And so, here he was, waiting for the first class he would teach this semester, promised that this group would comprise of some of the most unique Hunters in the school from varying circumstances. All of them proficient in at least one thing or another, valedictorian candidates, battle weary students, well, those were just a few of the things he expected. He searched through the folders of the portfolios he was given on each of the students, some neglected to mention very basic things, that were perhaps unknown to the Collection and Statistics Department in the school, of course they only really knew as much as the student told, or what other students were willing to tell, and for some there honestly wasn't much they could do about. He flipped through the files rather carelessly suddenly thinking to himself. " A piece of parchment couldn't possibly tell me more about these students than they could."

And for maybe the fifth time that morning he had to set the files back down on his desk in eagerness at what would come through those doors.

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"Hurry, I'm waiting..."
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ｆｅｅｌｉｎｇ:
Anxious, Excited
ｃｕｒｒｅｎｔｌｙ ａｔ:
Anthemia Academy
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He was always cleaning his pistols whenever he was anxious, and as fate would have it he was indeed. The smell of gun polish, and smalls hints of powder filled the room. Luckily, he had yet to be assigned a roommate since the large castle that hosted the Academy was large enough for some students to end up without a mate, sure it may have stifled his already abysmal social life, but Gods did it help him think when he needed to. The anxieties that claimed his mind had something to do with the fact that the missions coordinator had completely neglected his requests for more missions over the pasts few months, his guns, and his saber had gone into disuse, and the young teen had too much pride in himself to ask anyone else whether or not they had received the same treatment, ever since his last home teacher was reportedly killed in combat during a mission, the new one, who was apparently famous in the eyes of many but not to the somewhat oblivious nature of Maddox, had come around to replace her. Maddox had many theories in his mind as to why he hadn't been chosen yet for scouting in the last few months, which for some reason never included his previous home-teacher dying. Much of it had to do with some assumed inadequacy on his part, for someone who was known to be critical of others and their actions, he was hardest on himself.

So those months of no activity were spent either bemoaning his position, or training with the possible futility of being dropped from the Academy because of some form of inadequacy that he hadn't anticipated. Maybe his last Psychological Evaluation didn't hold up, that was usually the reason most people were kicked, some were seen as a danger to society and themselves as they were sent off to who knows where. All Maddox knew is that he wouldn't be so complacent to not receive his degrees for a few random hiccups in his psyche, not to mention anyone would go insane tying to figure out just why their demands were continually ignored just like Maddox would be, he was probably over thinking the situation, it was probably just his impatience.

He continued to use his lubricated towel and a small brush to wipe down the barrels of his pistols, he was mumbling while he did so, once again contemplating his position in the school as he did nearly every other morning. He would have hardly recognized the ping at his door. Suddenly, he looked at the entrance rather annoyed as if it slapped him and then sighed a few moments afterward, he then put his weapon and cleaning tools down, and grabbed his glasses off the drawer adjacent to him. He walked over to his door, dusting his fingers of black gun powder on his pants before opening it. One of the service androids stood in front of him, a cybernetic feat that was analogous with Anthemia's advanced technology, but something he found annoyance with this early morning.

Forester, Maddox, your home room has been changed to Second floor room, 2-2-1-3, you will now report to Superior Professor Asher Donovan during your mornings here at Anthemia, do you have any inquires?"

Maddox stared strangely at the android speaking, no doubt perplexed by the fact that they couldn't have just pinged him on his intercom like most students, they must have sent an android on the count that his previous room location changed a few weeks ago, therefore his room was a bit on the farthest side of the school grounds.

"Uh, thank you I suppose? I'll be sure to report there as soon as possible."

The android nodded appreciatively or seemed to, and then began to reenact an advertisement most likely pre-programmed into it's subroutines.

"Are you in need of magical supplies? Does your blade need sharpening? Well, come down to Luna's Emporium wher-"

He probably should have closed the door a little earlier than that, but he got the gist of being a pawn in the schemes of companies outside the school, something he'd rather avoid. He could hear the android continue his little rant, before running back to it's duties, probably of the janitorial type. Maddox affixed his glasses into a more comfortable position, while his body did not show it even in a place where he was completely alone, he was relieved to hear that he finally had a class in the morning, as opposed to moping around until his afternoon schedule picked up. He walked into the bathroom to wash off any of the excess filth that had gathered from him polishing his tools, and then headed back into his bedroom to gather his weapons, and a small backpack of some necessities. It was nice to feel like he was actually using his body to do something other than wait, and for a while he didn't notice the small smile creeping up on his face as he walked out of the door bound for that room.

Once he got there though he found an open door, and of course his new home teacher, the one he couldn't place in his mind, the one nearly everyone seemed to welcome with open arms, especially the females of the school, and administration as far as he could recall. The small smirk on his face dissipated immediately as he was met face to face with his new Professor, clearing his throat before speaking.

"Sir."

He addressed him in a typical manner, like a soldier would their commander, though Asher just seemed rather enthused by this as he took a sip from his coffee, before speaking.

"Please, no need for formalities just have a seat, I suppose you just got your message?"

"Yes sir. I'm Maddox Forester, in case you were curious."
He responds in a neutral tone

Asher takes note of this before nodding, trying to recall what he read about Maddox in the files. "Well welcome to the class, it'll probably take a while until the others are here, hopefully you have it in you to wait a bit."

Maddox nodded once before taking a seat near the back window of the classroom, hoping that things would proceed faster as he was long overdue for some type of field work, though he couldn't imagine with a new teacher and all that they'd start right out on the first day. It was definitely atypical for any new teacher.

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░ "Nobody ever said alcohol was a good idea."
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fєєℓιиg:
Hungover, Exhausted, Slightly Nauseated
ℓσ¢αтισи:
Anthemia Academy
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Hungover was a good word for it, she wouldn't even show her current state to her mother, if she could remember her, and what was worse was that she was not at all prepared for her afternoon courses, not in this state, and definitely not today. If she reported sick they would have found out she'd been drinking, which would probably mean some type of punitive action on their part, it just wasn't an adequate excuse for absence. One look at her room though would be all the evidence they need, the bottles that she drank last night were still, sitting without grace, strewn across her room, and unfortunately empty. She was the age in which students from the Academy were allowed to drink, and attend clubs in the city, now most Hunters had a tendency to avoid the night life and maintain at least some form of sobriety lest they fall back in their studies. One would be surprised at the behaviors that Noel had fallen into, there had been a few incidents where she might have been drunk following one of her afternoon courses, but luckily she had a strong stomach, and a stronger sense to function against inebriation and to still seem like a hard working student. Her grades weren't too bad or anything, but she imagined that if she wasn't so keen to the night life of the city, maybe, just maybe they'd be a little higher than they were.

Either way that wasn't helping the situation at hand, and the annoying ping that kept going off on her touch screen on the front of her door was intensifying the headache she was having. From her position on the bed, she sat up, rubbing her temple in a futile attempt to ward off her grogginess. She moved rather slowly to her Comm device knowing that ignoring it would force the administrations hand into sending one of it's moderators down to check up on her, and she was hardly ready to deal with the consequences of bringing alcoholic substances to school, hell she couldn't even say that it was for experimentation to ward away the possibility of punishment. Either way, after some struggling she made her way to the Comm, tapping her fingers on the new message that had been delivered straight from the Admin office. She read the message aloud as the bright light of the Comm slightly blurred her vision.

"You have been assigned a new home room teacher, please report to..." the rest of the message she internalized before sighing, the last thing she needed was her mornings ruined by ceaseless training, the time she needed to recuperate from the night before would now be lost now that she had a teacher she actually had to report to in the mornings. It was hard enough getting to open the message in front of her, much less have the effort to get off of her mattress. She ruffled her hand through her hair, knowing that she'd have to pull herself together in the meantime, and hope that this new teacher didn't smell the Absinthe on her breath, which reminded her that it was probably best for her look as hygienic as possible before she walked into classroom. Only a few minutes passed between her getting the message, then taking a shower and combing her hair, doing the things most people do before they start the day. She combed her hair into a high strung ponytail, and despite looking rather fresh on the outside, on the inside she still felt like a rotten sleepy mess. She shuffled her supplies together in a bag, and strapped her daggers to her backpacks, along with some poisons and her pistol before heading out to the designated location. After passing through some hallways, greeting some acquaintances, and probably wasting more time than she should of, she made it to the second floor, luckily able to fool the Mods into thinking that she wasn't planning to stay in her room all day. Unfortunately, for them that might have spelled disaster.

Before entering the classroom, she decided to hang out by the door for a few minutes, to bask in the times in which she didn't have a morning class, perhaps enjoy the scenery of outside of the window across from her. She almost wished she had a cigarette to puff on, but she figured the alcohol was enough to set her back for more repercussions. She instead sucked in a breath of frustration before speaking to herself. "Shitty days ahoy it seems..."

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Sleeping in a garden of blue roses seemed to be an unusual thing to do. But not for Robin Grey, one of the more unique of scholars. He came from Anima like most scholars but refused to be on the valedictorian, or even listen to politics. His Father, an Airship Captain Who's Townhouse he willingly gave Damian after he became nineteen, on a rental fee, the amount of which changeable as the Captain saw fit, had instilled the boy with distrust of the leaders of Anima.

But that was life, and life never became free without some earning done. The young man slowly opened his tired eyes and yawned as he got up off his small garden room. He had overworked himself, yet again, growing his lovely blue roses. No one knows why, for possible spare money or for the enjoyment, or both, as he is seen trying to sell some for some extra money. Walking out of this room he passed his bedroom and then his workroom, where he toils and tinkers trying to make new creations. From New hunter weapons to small gadgets, to even the occasional children's trinket, he would try to make it.

Stuck in his routine, he would put together a field bag for possible missions to be prepared for. Inside consisted of the following, one combat suit made by Robert Damian Grey, Patent pending, Soulfire, his two handed broadsword given to him by his Mother and Father on his enrollment to the academy at 15, and a few emergency food rations for those required occasions. It was all routine for him. Any break in this routine would slightly result in a disastrous reaction on his part, albeit contained inward as he tries to not show anyone his suffering.

Speaking of breaks in his routine, it had been awhile since his home room teacher died, and he himself was not sent on a mission. This worried him. How would he face his father, whose portrait stares with one dark brown eye darting outward towards the front door, if he were kicked out? Then there was a knock at the door.

"I hope it's good news or at least a visitor." Robin stated to himself as he walked to the door and opened it. It was one of the Academy's Service Droids. Surprise, he was about to be told something about his current status as a student.

"Grey, Robert Damian, Your Homeroom has been changed to second floor room 2-2-1-3. You will now report to Superior Professor Asher Donovan, during your morning hours at Anthemia. Any inquiries?"

"No that'll be all. You may leave now." was all he could say to the robot as he hurried and grabbed his field bag and then his school bag before hurrying past the droid.

"Wait, The Asher Donovan? I heard that Famous Hunter was in town but never thought he was there to replace my last teacher. I liked that teacher. I wonder how Professor Donovan will be as a Teacher now?" Robin swallowed nervously at the thought of it.

Fifteen minutes later he was in the school heading for the schoolroom assigned to him. He walked past one of his other classmates, and gave a slight nervous nod in greeting, before walking into the classroom. Inside was another classmate, a fellow native of Anima, if he recalled. At the desk was the Professor and to him gave a small nervous wave.

"Morning Professor, Robert Damian Grey, at your service. Call me Robin, sir." He stated as he walked to a seat in the second row and set his bags under the desk before sitting down, waiting for his other classmates to arrive. Outward he tried his best to look calm but inside he was a nervous wreck. What would be in store for him, and what will be required of him. It was a big unknown to him with no sense of reality at the moment.

Hector was standing there, in the field. Surrounding him were various combatants, all armed to the teeth, of various ages. The youngest were ten. Hector himself was designated to command a small force of these children, until command changed their squads around. Not a problem. This was something that Hector was used to, as were many of the others who had lived up to this point. But none knew it for as long as Hector did. He was 14. His squad was made of younger children, including that 10-year old. A girl. Hector forgot her name, but she still kept her stuffed animal with her, holding it on her back, alongside her sub-machine gun. She was too small to effectively use an assault rifle, after all.

That was when Hector's perception flashed forward, to the daemon that interrupted their trip. The squads each were traveling while remaining in radio contact of each other. They were preserving the fuel of their gunships. Hector's squad had none, simply carrying their equipment on ground transport vehicles. Another soldier in Hector's squad had called out at the same time as a high-pitched scream pierced the silence of the day. Hector swung around.

The group had taken a short break, with their vehicle stopped. They were all playing outside, or sitting down. Either way, everyone had time to relax. The scream was the little girl, with her stuffed animal. She was being held by a tendril, belonging to a shapeless, flesh-coloured beast. Hector didn't know how it had gotten so close without anyone hearing it beforehand. But that was not the issue. Hector's mind focused on a million things at once on a slow day.

Now, everything was focused on her. Every muscle movement, every breath, every thought, was to rescue her. He had to. Even if it was a daemon that captured her. This was the first daemon Hector would have ever fought. He would call for help, for a hunter, but he knew there were none in the squad. They were alone.

The girl's screams grew louder as the creature opened it's mouth, and had eaten the girl. Her stuffed animal lay at the creature's base, below where the girl was being held a short moment ago.

That short moment was all Hector needed to get to the scene. It had eaten her, but he would fish her out of that thing if it was the last thing he would do. Everyone else was paralyzed with fear until a black wind dashed past them, with speed enhanced by magic. The others ran to the vehicle and brought out their equipment. That black wind was Hector. He always kept his weapons with him. A sub-machine gun with explosive bullets that could have the strength of their explosions enhanced by technomancy. And a plain, pike-like spear, whose edge could be sharpened and strengthened with magic. Hector was circling the daemon, firing the gun at it with one hand. He didn't care if he used all of his magical power on on this fight. He could live without it until it replenished. And besides, he was a fantastic mage. His output was high, and he could use magic for a longer period of time than most, out of pure efficiency and knowledge of magic. He knew out to put his magic to good use to reduce how much he used at a time.

As he circled it, firing the explosive rounds at it's body, Hector approached closer and closer. He could see the girl, after blowing away the regenerating exterior of the creature. Hector holstered the gun as he rocketed closer, and he drew the spear, and ran forward, pushing his legs and magical ability as far as they could go. The girl was being wrapped by a regenerated maw attached to what appeared to be a solid stomach, it's teeth sinking into her within a second of Hector reaching the toothed stomach, and spearing it, ripping it from the main body and carrying himself, the girl, and the speared stomach all forward together.

Hector landed on his feet, the spear holding the small stomach, and the body of the girl, still caught on the teeth. Hector had expected the teeth to not have sunk so deep into her. He thought that he could resuscitate her. People died from more serious things, the bite should not have been this deep, he would have turned around and continued fighting if the girl had been dislodged from the stomach he ripped out and fell into the creature, he would have-

Hector interrupted his thoughts by dashing back to the vehicle, where, by now, the others had brought out more heavy equipment. Hector used his fire magic to burn the teeth from the stomach, so that they could be pulled out safely. Leaving the girl there, he turned around only after hearing a nearby gunship approach. One of the others must have called for backup. Hector left the girl on the ground, a short distance away from the vehicle as he saw an adult medic slide down a rope from the helicopter, once the air vehicle had gotten closer. Luckily, this was an adult who, while not a hunter, knew holy magic, and medical training.

When Hector turned around, he saw the creature. It was taking the form of the girl it sunk it's teeth into. Her face was there, but proportionate to the creature's body, which also began to morph to resemble something more human-shaped. There were no eyes, only eye sockets.



Hector used his technomancy once he had picked up two small rocket launchers. The helicopter would provide heavy fire that would obliterate the creature, regardless of what Hector did, but he had to do this. His hatred would not permit otherwise.

He had used his technomancy to aim the guided rockets, once he fired both, into the empty eye sockets of the creature. One rocket in each. The explosion was loud, but fulfilling.

Hector's perception leaped forward again. He was holding the corpse of the girl in his arms as he walked to the grave he dug for her. After putting her in, he turned back, and retrieved her stuffed animal. Hector had only ever referred to it as a stuffed animal, but he saw that it was a rabbit. Only in that instance. He placed it into the grave with her, and turned around.

. . .

Hector opened his eyes, looking at the surroundings of his room. Books and computer equipment were on the shelves that were ever-present throughout the room. The smell of dust returned to his senses. He should really hire a maid to clean this place. Or do it himself. Hector got up and checked the time. It was 2:30 A.M.

Hector grabbed his head with both hands. He needed a mission. Badly. The nightmares were coming back. He knew that only a mission, only real combat would alleviate his shell shock. But, it looked like that would not occur, with his home-room teacher being dead. His schedule was to not go to classes on some days. He often scored perfectly on tests, and anything that he needed to do to not get kicked out of the academy. All he needed was to attend a few days of classes and missions, and his nightmares would be in check. Those few days were enough. He hated to admit it, to himself more than anyone, but he probably needed to fight on missions. That way, he could be at peace. Ironic, that he would likely only ever be at peace while fighting war.

What he needed was a distraction. He called up the delivery for coffee.

Hector had another solution to his problem: He would build something.

. . .

A few hours and seven cups of coffee later, Hector had finished his device. It was just a rifle, on the surface. Only on the surface. Each bullet was charged with magical energy from the gun that caused the rounds to glow brightly as they left the barrel, and burn through their targets. Or burn into them and remain there. The bullets could barely burn entirely through thicker targets. Once they lost their burning capability, they rested in the target like an ordinary bullet, albeit in a larger hole than the caliber of the bullet allowed. It would be useful for fighting larger creatures that were organic.

Hector frowned for a moment before pushing the memory out of his head. He decided to spend time reading a book until the morning.

When morning came, Hector received a message from a robot behind the door. As Hector answered the door, he feared that he had gone over the stipend he had been given. Seven cups of coffee, after all, was a bit much, even for him.

"Kazuhira, Hector, your home room has been changed to Second floor room, 2-2-1-3, you will now report to Superior Professor Asher Donovan during your mornings here at Anthemia, do you have any inquires?"

"No."

Hector shut the door, and got ready for the day. He would be in a homeroom run by a celebrity. Hector didn't consider this to be too special. He hardly kept up with celebrities. In fact, he would not be shocked if Professor Donovan was just as uncaring of his celebrity status as Hector was.

Hector got cleaned up, dressed, straightened his tie, and placed his knife, staff, and wand in his bag. He thought of bringing the rifle, but he decided against it. After all, it didn't have any level of automatic action. Each bullet had to be loaded individually, and the next bullet had to be brought into the firing chamber manually after each shot. Although Hector was familiar with the system's use, he was too lazy to pull a bolt after each shot. But still...

Hector left for the classroom, leaving his hat in his room. He avoided eye contact as much as possible. That was simply how he enjoyed to do things. Once he reached the room, he chose to try and limit his interaction with the girl at the door to a glance. He entered, and began to head for his desk, before he turned around. He forgot to say good morning to professor Donovan.

"Good morning, professor. I'm Hector Kazuhira. It's an honor."

And with that, Hector sat down in his seat, at the front of the classroom, by a window, waiting to see whether he may receive a new mission or not.

Nina opened her eyes to the whirring noise of one of her many creations. "Hmm?" She rubbed her eyes groggily as she surveyed her room, instinctively looking for the one with a problem. Which would be easy if her room wasn't filled with gadgets. She groaned slightly, pushing her hair back as she closed her eyes, her magic feeling out to each machine as if they have a life of their own. It was a handy skill for when you ned to find things, especially in her situation. When she opened them, she had a basic idea of where it was, as she got out of bed and picked it up, carefully avoiding the many others that littered her floor. She was forever getting lectures about the cleanliness of her room, but frankly she couldn't care less. She could find the location of each of the things she wanted to, so why bother?

"Oh its you, Phoenix." She said to herself as she checked it carefully. "One of your wings seems to be out of order... I've always told you not to crash into things didn't I?" She chided the bird softly, acting as though it was alive. And to Nina, it was. Machines all had their own lives and it was her job to bring them out. That was all there to it. Humming to herself, she lifted its broken wing gently and started to fix it with her magic. The wires and gears were no problem to her no matter how complicated they were. She could always remember where they were supposed to go, their exact positions and angle for them to start working properly since she was young. She could easily dismantle it and put it back together if she wished to. "There you go, thats much better." The wing was completely fixed, its mechanisms working smoothly and the incessant whirring sound has stopped.

"Alright now that I've got that out of the way... back to sleep..." she muttered to herself, yawning silently. She didn't get enough sleep yesterday, and she was not going to drink any of that disgusting bitter coffee thing anytime soon. Then, out of the blue, a knock came from her door. Perfect. She groaned under her breath when the robot announced: "Sasami, Nina. Your Homeroom has been changed to second floor room 2-2-1-3. You will now report to Superior Professor Asher Donovan, during your morning hours at Anthemia. Any inquiries?"

"Yes, could you not come at such a time when I need my sleep?" She asked, half jokingly, before sighing a "no" at the silence that came behind her door. Looks like sleep would have to wait. She wearily got cleaned up and dressed in her normal clothes, and tying the piece of cloth over her golden hair. She didn't mind not having missions, despite the rumours floating around the school that they would be dismissed. She was actually quite happy with it, as studying, while it was easy, was much too boring and tedious for her. She picked up her bag with her staff an some other machine parts with it and headed for her new classroom.

When she reached it, there were students there already, and she smiled at them before heading to her seat. everyone was so... tall. The age difference was by quite a margain, and she felt slightly intimidated by that fact. Turining around once she set her things down, she gave a slight bow to her new teacher and said “Hi, my name is Nina! Nice to meet you.” She took her seat and rested her head on the table, trying to fall asleep before class starts. If she was lucky enough, she could catch a few minutes of sleep....

The bright early morning ray shone through the window, lighting up the neat and tidy room. Constantly maintained by its owner, the room was the perfect definition of a discipline student. Already awake like usual, Caesar was taking his time spreading over his bed sheets in a tidy manner. It was a rather easy task for him, especially since he dedicated himself to cleaning up his room and possessions as spotless as possible, what with his inability to gain advantages somewhere else. This was the least he could do to prove that he wasn't at all useless.

"You're quick as always aren't you, Caesar? I'm still very much tired here." A familiar voice rang inside his head. The same rough and commanding tone of voice that only he himself can hear. Similar to a very close brother, but their bond was something even blood-related siblings could not even possess. Nefarius, the Fae who became Caesar's only relative, had been with him for the past 10 years, along with another. He was in the form of an orange sheathed katana, resting itself next to the desk. At the hilt, there was a small circle that took up most of the hilt and a little hump protruding over the entire length of the sword.

"You are always tired, Nefarius. It's not as if you did something of great mention." Another voice vibrated inside his head. This time, a gentle and relieving one. The eldest among the trio, she is the one keeping the two brothers in check. Typically Nefarius as he is always the one feeding dangerous ideas to Caesar. Nexus was the Fae who found Caesar 10 years ago along with Nefarius. As the kind elder sister, she 'took in' Caesar and made him their youngest brother. Ever since, they had been together for as long as Caesar's memories can bring him to. Nexus now resides in the form of a dual pistol, both having black bodies and white slides.

A loud roar came from Nefarius, who objected at Nexus' claim. "What?! Of course not! Everyday, I keep my guard up to ensure Caesar is ready for a battle against those daemons anytime. There isn't a time where I failed to do it." If Nefarius had a physical body, this should be where he's be puffing out his chest proudly. "Well, thank you then, brother. I'm sure some daemons would come storming into an academy specifically built for training Hunters. Oh and let's not forget that we have a famous Hunter with the academy today." Nefarius gulped after hearing this. It seems like his objection was deflected. Caesar giggled a little and stepped up, stopping the argument. "Well, today would just be like any day. Let's do our best." Just as he said that, there was a knock on the door.

Caesar went ahead to open the door and found an android standing in front. Its metallic eyes stared right into Caesar as their difference in height made it looked like Caesar was getting bullied by an upper class-robot.

"Minamoto, Caesar. Your Homeroom has been changed to second floor room 2-2-1-3. You will now report to Superior Professor Asher Donovan, during your morning hours at Anthemia. Any inquiries?" The robot announced. Its usual AI voice carried a sort of friendliness to it. The first time Caesar met with these androids, it literally made him jumped with surprise. Slowly however, he got used to it and eventually found it rather friendly as he tries to make conversations with it. Only to be disappointed that they aren't programmed to do so.

Shaking his head as a reply, he slowly closed the door as the android returned to its work. He returned to the desk and put on his equipment, a long coat that goes to the bottom of his heels and and long black scarf. "Speak of the devil. Let us move." Nexus said as she was strapped on the waist together with Nefarius. "It's about time we get some action! I can't wait to fight something again!" Suddenly gaining an intense amount of energy, Nefarius sprung back to life and was ready to face anything. Nodding to their claims, Caesar grabbed his sling bag and exited his room, locking it before he left.

His room is one the first floor, towards the opposite end of where his destination would be, so it took him some time to get to room 2-2-1-3. As he approaches closer and closer to the room, he saw a lady standing beside the door, looking out through the window. She was well-dressed and had a matured sense around her. But on her face, it was as if she missed something that she recently lost. Caesar didn't want to intrude her private moments, so before going into the room, he bowed a little to show respect to whoever she might be.

Inside was a few of his classmate already arrived before him. Unable to remember most of them, Caesar struggled to dig his past memories to reconfirm their names and faces but no results came out. But he didn't give up. If he felt familiar to even one of them, he want to remember who they were and perhaps strike up a conversation with it later. However, he just couldn't do it. Eventually, he snapped back to reality as he saw the professor sitting behind the desk. He suddenly remembered that he had been standing there for more than 10 seconds, so he quickly whimpered away to a corner of the room and took his seat, hiding his embarrassment behind his bag.

That was where he truly thanked the existence of bags. He thought that the bags were there to hide and cover his shame. Then again, probably not.

---

---

"Report to the research center in the West Wing." That was what they'd told her to do. She'd felt her heart sinking at these commands, as she'd been hoping that she'd finally get the chance to live in an ordinary dormitory environment, instead of a whitewashed lab with cameras watching her every move and coat-wearing researchers staring at her all day, governing every second of every day of her life. When she wasn't practicing her powers in their strict training regimen, she was undergoing new tests to explore the limits of her abilities, and exceed them. It was an exhausting, merciless routine that left her utterly burned out at the end of every day, with no freedom to do any of the things she enjoyed. "Just deal with it," they had said dismissively. "We need to remain closeby to monitor your vitals at all times so you don't suffer the same fate as Subject 13. Too much money has been put into your creation for failure to be tolerated." Ah, Subject 13 - the Sword of Damocles they hung over her head at the slightest provocation. Having read the minds of her handlers, she had seen in full detail the gory fate suffered by her predecessor as her body crumbled and warped, bones snapping and turning to dust, eyes spewing blood as her skull collapsed in on itself as though an invisible hand had crumpled it like a wad of used tissue paper. That was the fate that awaited her, they said, if they were not hovering over her shoulder for 24 hours of every day of every week, monitoring her powers and "protecting" her from herself.

It was all hogwash, of course, mused the girl, brushing back some errant strands of her two-toned hair as she strode calmly through the main hall of her new school, the fluttering of her entourage's coat tails ringing in her ears as the scientists flanking her on either side continued leading the way to her new prison. The girl known as Lorelei had read enough of the minds of her handlers to know that her powers had not, nor would they ever advance to that volatile stage. But that didn't stop them from using that as an excuse, as though they thought she was too stupid to remember anything. Then again, in a way, maybe they were right about that. Who had she been, she wondered. Why had she ever agreed to sign her rights over to the researchers who now governed every aspect of her life? She was sure there had been some important reason, that she'd had no other choice. She just wished she could remember what that reason was. Maybe then, this tiring, ruthless tedium would be a little more bearable.

"Is that the NHP representative? She looks so young." Lorelei grimaced, gritting her teeth as the intrusive voice burrowed its way deep into her consciousness, countless others joining it as the students bustling about stopped to gawk at what they must have viewed as a new and interesting plaything.

"Look at her, just strolling in with her escorts like some sort of wannabe princess."

"I've seen her type before. She's probably a total bitch."

"'Next generation of humanity,' my ass. Just 'cause a lot of money's riding on her she waltzes in here like she owns the place. We worked hard to get where we are, you know. Some no-talent fake human who thinks she's all that just because her creators' connections can get her anywhere has no place here. Go back to Leviathan, you arrogant slut."

"WHO SAID THAT?!" Snapping at last, she stopped suddenly, rounding upon where she thought the voice had been coming from as her hands clenched into fists. Her hair began to flutter wildly on an eldritch breeze as her narrowed eyes glowed with their own internal azure light, darting from one face to the next as she tried to find the source of the voice that had so insulted her. How dare they claim that she had done nothing to get where she was. She'd been fighting to survive each and every day of her life! But more than just that... she wasn't a fake! She knew she had once been a person. She had been a Human like them! She must have been!

"What the hell? Who does she think she's talking to?"

"Is she alright in the head?"

"What a total psychopath."

"Oi, NHP goons! Keep your bitch on a leash!" Shouted a voice from amidst the crowd, which was echoed by several more a moment later as mocking laughter resounded all around her...

---

Lorelei's eyes snapped open where she lay. That dream again. Well, less of a dream than a memory, she supposed, sitting up in her bed, glancing across the room at the far wall, staring into the blank whiteness of the featureless room surrounding her, its otherwise blinding color reduced to a mere dull gray by the deadened lights of the laboratory bedroom. Ever since she'd arrived, things had been largely the same. People either avoided her out of fear of interacting with a "lunatic," or mocked her between one another, either unaware of or unconcerned by the fact that she knew full well what they were saying. The voices were always so loud, each and every one of them either mocking or pitying her. It just made her want to scream, to throw their insults back in the faces of the ones who so smugly mocked her. But it was pointless. The voices never stopped talking, never stopped insulting her - and she hated it.

She groaned, stretching her arms as she tried to shake off the stiffness that had overcome her body after spending the night atop the small white "bed" - more of a glorified, expandable couch, really - that provided her "room" - more of a glorified cell, really - with one of its two sole furnishings. Well, she supposed it could be worse. At least she had a bed, and that certainly beat spending her nights strapped to an operating table with electrodes probing her brain for the slightest hint of psychic activity, countless syringes full of sedatives ready and waiting to be pumped into her should her powers ever go out of control, all alone in the darkness with her body aching and her thoughts a mess. It was probably for the best that she couldn't remember much of that period of her life - although what she did recall nevertheless made up a good portion of her nightmares. She supposed she'd been lucky to simply dream she was being humiliated, rather than experimented on.

Crossing the tiny chamber in a few quick strides, her feet making naught but a faint shuffling against the frigid, infuriatingly pristine white floor, Lorelei idly swung open her wardrobe - the other bit of furnishing in her humble abode, a large, gaudy mahogany object which looked almost hilariously out of place against the monochromatic backdrop of the lab - and, reaching inside, withdrew her "uniform." Well, technically, just the black and cerulean tabard she wore and the tie that accompanied it were actually part of the apparel she'd been assigned by the NHP, while the long-sleeved black undershirt, matching opaque tights, and short, half-blouse, half-dress she wore were all her own personal additions to her attire. Placing all these things on her couch, she turned, slipping out of the flimsy, backless white nightgown she wore and casually throwing it across the room into a hamper in the side of the still-open wardrobe. Standing bare at the center of the small room, she turned, spreading her arms like a conductor, then sweeping them upward, the azure crystal that she'd taken out along with her uniform shattering outward into a large mass of floating water that washed over her in an instant, wrapping itself like a raiment around her and running over her form, precisely darting into each pore and clearing it in turn in what was equal parts morning practice and self-grooming ritual - although she had a sneaking suspicion that the only reason she'd been allowed to use her magic to clean herself was because the surveillance team enjoyed the free show they got over the cameras. Ensuring that her aura of water covered her most important parts from the angles at which her sixth sense helpfully reminded her the cameras were positioned in at all times, Lorelei concluded her little bath by purging all the water that still clung to her pale skin, running it up and through her hair, sending a two-toned cascade of raven and snowy tresses fluttering outward as though caught on a powerful breeze, before the water at last morphed back into its crystalline form, weaving itself back into her hair as she picked up the clothing she'd left on the couch. She was just about to set about getting dressed when the door snapped open with an audible hiss as the sealed environment of her room decompressed slightly - she still thought vacuum sealing the doors as a defense against any sort of germs contaminating her sleeping environment was a little excessive, but she supposed that her handlers couldn't afford their valuable test subject catching cold if they could help it.

Turning to face the intruder, Lorelei almost forgot to conceal her scowl as her eyes met those of Dr. Bessiger, the right hand man to the chairman of the NHP, and her personal handler and commanding officer. He was a tall man, and surprisingly young for an individual of his status and expertise. He possessed a heavily built, study physique that suggested he'd probably done his fair share of physical activities in the past, which, when combined with his formidable height, gave him a very imposing stature that most people couldn't help but be cowed by. His blonde hair was short, cut very methodically around his eyes and ears, and trimmed with the same obsessive zeal along the back of his neck, while his midnight blue eyes gazed coldly over the top of his spectacles. From the precise crease in each leg of his slacks to the pristine cerulean suit he wore, he was the perfect image of order. Lorelei forced back the bile that crept its way into her throat as this man, her eternal tormentor, stepped calmly into the room, his eyes sweeping over her naked body with all the interest one might have expected someone to show some small, insignificant animal's carcass. In his expression alone, he made it abundantly clear that he, unlike the watchers on the 24 hour cameras she lived with, didn't view her as a fellow Human being, even if only in the sense of a slave to be leered at. To him, she was nothing but a tool.

"Good," he said coldly. "You're awake."

"Did your parents ever teach you how to knock?" Lorelei wanted to say, but stifled herself out of fear, simply turning herself about, standing rigidly at attention, and placing her right hand over her heart in salute - a gesture which, fortunately, had the side effect of covering her sensitive regions with the clothing still draped over her arm. "Yes, master," She replied dutifully, her voice cold and stoic as she tried her hardest not to spit the hateful word by which she was forced to refer to him, her maker, and her unmaker should she ever set a single foot out of line. This was the man who controlled her very fate, and if she did not remember that and show him the utmost respect and humility, the things he could do to her or have done to her would make starving to death on the streets or being devoured by Daemons seem merciful by comparison.

Dr. Bessiger gave a self-assured half-smirk, stopping in front of her and reaching out a hand, placing two fingers upon her chin and slowly, forcefully raising it by several degrees. Lorelei winced as she fought back the impulse to lash out at him, to release her powers and fling him away, his chilling, powerful touch sending chills down her spine of a sort far colder than the brisk air of the lab against her bare flesh. Her azure eyes reluctantly rose as she looked up - or perhaps the matter of note was that he had deigned to look down on her? - meeting the midnight blue gaze of her handler, her creator, her owner, the man who held everything she was in the palm of his hand, and who would shape her, like a dollmaker might give form to a doll, in whatever way he pleased. Lorelei hated those eyes, loathed them with every fiber of her being, despised the way they seemed to pierce like daggers through her, dismantling her and laying her bare before them, her individuality stripped away by their cold awareness as her very self was reduced to mere data, reflected in the eyes of that terrifying man who held absolute power over everything she had been, was, and ever would be.

"Look me in the eye when you speak," Ordered the doctor, his voice that of a disapproving father to a petulant child, commanding the respect of his rude and arrogant creation.

"Yes, master," Lorelei repeated obediently, her words utterly void of any of the feelings or emotions whirling through her terrified brain, containing nothing save the blind respect and acceptance that the doctor demanded. She was barely able to muster even this sort of empty, mechanical speech, her breath nearly choking in her throat as she spoke the words she so hated for a second time, her eyes unable to escape the gaze of those horrible blue orbs that dominated her vision, staring down at her with soul-crushing intensity. Finally, as suddenly as he had forced her to meet it, the man broke off his gaze, giving a self-satisfactory nod to himself as he released her chin and turned, walking casually to the opposite edge of the room, shutting the still-open door of her wardrobe as he passed it out of obsessive-compulsive fervor. Lorelei gave a silent gasp of relief, sucking in the breath that had been stolen from her when those eyes had met her own.

He had to be there for a reason. The doctor never interacted with her so personally unless he had something he wanted her to do. The sooner she could figure out what exactly that thing was, the sooner he might leave her in peace, the sooner she might escape from his hateful presence, even if only temporarily. And so, her words still devoid of any feeling save obedience, she spoke.

"What is it that you wish of this unit, master? I will obey," She said humbly, making sure to avoid speaking with any pretense of humanity before this man who refused to accept her as such.

"Well, aren't we eager?" Laughed the doctor quietly. There was nothing outwardly malevolent about his laugh. Unlike the cackling villains in cliche films, his mirth was expressed in a thoroughly ordinary, perhaps even understated manner. But to Lorelei, that only made it all the more terrifying, as it presented the possibility that this man was really nothing but an ordinary person doing his job - and that just so happened to entail commanding her very destiny, and crushing it beneath his boot heel if such measures became necessary. "In that case, you'll be pleased to know I have good news. You've finally been reassigned."

The experiment's eyes widened as her mind processed these words. Reassigned? Her last teacher had been killed practically on the same day he'd been charged with her instruction. As a result, she'd ended up spending most of her time in the lab running tests like always, waiting for the opportunity to be assigned once more to a group so as to improve her skills and run missions. She'd never actually been part of a major operation, nor had she participated in actual combat against a wild, powerful Daemon. The closest she came to having real battle experience was fighting some of the captured Daemons brought to Leviathan for training purposes - although she supposed any battle where you ran a risk of dying couldn't exactly be called anything but "real." If she was finally being reassigned, then that would mean her first chance to actually perform the duties for which she'd been created, and to destroy the Daemonic invaders. Forgetting her fear for a moment, she gave a smile of surprise - yet this soon collapsed when she remembered what else being assigned to a group would mean - she'd have to work with her peers, most of whom at the very least knew her, and, more often than not, either thought she was insane or simply despised her for the manner in which she'd entered the academy. Her expression of delight swiftly turned to a grimace. Still, she supposed, it would be better than staying here in the lab, where this man had absolute command of every aspect of her life. Besides, she'd long since learned to stop hoping for anything she knew she wouldn't get, so there was no sense in getting worked up over it. She would simply fulfill her duties. Then, at least, she would be blameless, even in the eyes of the peers who so looked down on her. "When shall I begin?" She asked quietly.

"Today, in one hour. You'll be in class designation 2-2-1-3, on the second floor. Hurry up and make yourself presentable, then report to your new teacher. That is all." Rounding on the door, the Doctor left just as suddenly as he had entered, and her room sealed itself once again in his wake. She sighed, too flustered by her fear, confusion, anxiety, and anticipation to care about the cameras watching her as she set about dressing herself, slipping into the sleeves of her undershirt and blouse before fastening on her tabard and pulling on her customary pair of tights. Brushing back her hair, she snapped shut the bindings on her shoes, and turned for the door. This was it. This was the day she'd been waiting for.

She opened the door, and stepped outside.

---

The school was as noisy as it had been the last time she'd been outside of the lab - about a month ago when she'd finally been given some free time, although what she'd been expected to do with this break, exactly, she still wasn't sure - but she shut it out as best she could, blasting loud pop-rock from some no-name artist in her headphones as she walked briskly through the halls of the academy, trying to find her way to her new classroom. Unfortunately, given that she couldn't exactly read, checking a map was out of the question, and she didn't want to take off her headset to read somebody's mind for directions for fear of being bombarded by the thoughts of those around her. The last thing she needed was to make another scene on the first day of her new start. There couldn't be too many classrooms in the first hallway of the second sector of floor 2, so finding the third one shouldn't have been too difficult - if she could just find sector 2. She was so caught up in her frustration that she almost missed the sign overhead with some text she couldn't understand and a 2 on it. Huh. That was easier than she had expected, she mused, turning off her music now that the crowds had thinned somewhat and placing her headphones back around her neck. A short while of searching later, and she found herself in the classroom - and she wasn't alone. Already, several other students were present, as was a slightly unkempt man who was evidently their teacher. Walking purposefully up to the man at the desk, she supposed it would be best to make a good impression, if only to avoid the scolding that Dr. Bessiger would invariably give her if she failed to. So, acting as she had been taught, she placed her right hand over her heart in salute, standing rigidly at attention as she reported her presence and gave a brief introduction.

"Subject 17 of the New Human Project, reporting for duty. This unit's designation is 'Lorelei.' This unit will follow all instructions provided, sir," She said quietly, her voice and expression a blank, unfeeling void as she had been taught. Her introduction completed, she gave a rigid bow, and then swiftly moved away to the far corner of the room, finding an empty desk far from the other occupants of the area, so that the voices of their minds might not reach her so easily. Staring into space, she tried her best to just ignore whatever snippets of their "voices" she did hear, not wanting to know what they already must have thought of her for fear that it might cause her to snap and forgo the disciplined exterior she had practiced for so long...

"Lasiere, Vance, your home room has been changed to second floor room, 2213, you will now report to Superior Professor Asher Donovan during your mornings here at Anthemia, do you-"

"Shut the hell up." Vance shoved the android aside with a gloved palm and walked past it, ignoring its insistent dialogue as it continued to talk in spite of his blatant order and the fact that he was now a good distance away from it. Just another reason to add to the list of things that make androids irritating, if it could get any longer. He pulled back his sleeve and glanced at his watch as he walked, keeping his peripheral vision wide alert as he did so. Sure, it was just the school campus, but being raised in a place with no hospitality to speak of ingrained certain habits into you and that was one of them. Even when he appears relaxed and laid back, he never lowers his guard - a sense of safety gave him no comfort so he only found peace in wariness and suspicion, whatever little grounds for it there may be. He'd more or less memorized the entire layout of the academy so he made his way to class in no time, opening the door and taking a look at who he'd be sharing his morning hours with, cramming his hands into his coat pockets as he took a cursory look around at the new faces.

Vance's eyes shifted toward Maddox. First we have...glasses guy. He looks like a little twig that could break with a slight breeze, I at least hope he's as smart as he looks. Doesn't look the kind to talk much, either. Hm, maybe we'll get along, but I won't have my hopes up. His attention moved over to Noel. And this one...looks like the annoying, pushy type, the kind of person without perspective that won't take no for an answer. We'll see. The next one he settled on was Nina. What's this pipsqueak doing here instead of some elementary school? I really don't want to have to deal with that, moving on. He looked toward Nino. Well, this one looks normal enough. Seems like something's bothering her though, and I'm going to take a quick guess that it's a time bomb waiting to go off, but hey, maybe I'll be wrong for once.

Next, Lorelei. Well, it looks like somebody clearly doesn't want to be here. She better not be one of those sulking types that try to infect everyone with their inner demons, that's something I can go without listening to. Caesar was the next in his line of sight. ...What is he doing? Pretending to be a turtle? Whatever... He turned to Robin. This guy looks totally lost. Do I even want to know? Of course I get the class full of weirdos... He shifted to Hector. Hm, this one seems to be no nonsense, I like that. But I guess I'll reserve any real judgment until he actually opens his mouth. Lastly, his eyes feel on their new teacher. So this is Asher, huh? Looks pretty sleazy to me, but I guess his reputation has to come from somewhere. This should be interesting, to say the least. Vance took a seat up front and put his arms on the table in front of him as he folded his hands together, awaiting some kind of directive as he looked straight forward. And now, another waiting game.

Willow slipped out of her bed early as she did every morning. She knew there was no reason for her to get up so early in the mornings, especially since at the moment, she had no homeroom class to attend. She could not help herself though. It was such a well ingrained habit from her childhood home in Terrasis that she did not even bother with an alarm. Her mind was it's own clock. Always making sure she rose before the sun was able to greet the east horizon and went to bed before the midnight darkness consumed the skies. Her grandparents were firm believers in in the old adage, Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.

Being the stickler for routine that she was, Willow began her morning rituals. She moved through the motions systematically. Tucking in the edges of the comforter, she tidied up her small futon tucked away in the corner of her decent sized bedroom. Leaning down to the well worn blanket, she took a deep breathe. Searching for a hint of her home's scent. Nothing. She let out her breathe and pushed herself up from her knees. She was not totally sure why she tried. Their scent had long since faded away.

Willow raised her slender arms above her head and stretched. Throwing her head back she let out a wide-mouthed yawn. With a roll of her shoulders, she continued with her schedule. Leaving her bedroom, she made her way into her small living room. Behind her modern grey suede couch on the opposite side from her sleek television, she kneeled once more on the wooden flooring. There, was the largest window in her entire dorm. It was where she had her indoor shrine in the midst of her small window garden.

Running her hands down her thighs she smoothed out her silk lavender night gown and then placed them flat on the cold wood. The tips of her index and middle touching as well as her thumbs. Dutifully she bent over in a most humble bow. Her forehead on her fingers and her nose to the ground. In a quiet, gentle whisper she began her daily prayers. Speaking fluently in the holy tongue of her religion.

"Lel twa jomenti al...Fo letimu el tsah tjumeni jah hun mu...
...Lel twa sjah lenti al fo letico...Ol tah lementi al tsah jutenija.
Al fo letia leja al tash...A la rey yo, ya.
Lyttie..Tu-liatua ruecies Systina et-Freyia.
Renies teal dear siesty litea...Rushes."

That particular prayer was just a short recital of words. There were much longer ones that she knew, but she chose to stick with this one usually. Just to keep her mornings quick and efficient. It covered the basics. Thanking the one who reigned sovereign over the planet and it's inhabitants for giving her life and protecting her. Apologizing for any malevolent intent that might have seeped into her heart before and asking him to cleanse her. Promising to do her best to bring others to the light. All that religious stuff.

Rising from her subservient position, she got to her feet and examined the plants in her garden. With butterfly-like touches she ran her fingers over their leaves, stems and flowers. Cataloging the progress they were making. Smiling, she spoke to them softly. Whispering sweet nothings to them as if they were her significant other. In a way, they were. Willow regarded all plants and animals as beings with close attachments to her. They all had a life force in them keeping them going day after day, for all she knew they could feel the same way about her.

With one hand, she grasped her small trimmers and set to work. Some of their vines were wrapping around her small alter. That could not do. With one Snip and another, she put the blades down and admired her handiwork. Reaching for her watering can, she carefully and loving gave each a drink. Making sure not to drown them or give them too little. Willow glanced out of the window and spotted the sun just beginning to rise. Giving the sky a strange, but beautiful mish-mash of colors. She was right on time. The best time to water your plants was right before the sun rose. It stimulated faster root growth. Well, of course she did not need to go through that whole process like others might. After all she was quite skilled in the field of nature magick. With a single stroke she could make all of these flowers bloom even if they were not in season. But she did not. One, it was against the rules to use ones magick if not in critical need of them or given specific permission. And two, she enjoyed watching them grow on their own. With her gently nourishing them, nudging them forward like a mother. It gave her a sense of pride when they finally bloomed. Putting her watering can down, she gave them one last smile before getting ready for the day.

Getting ready always took her the most amount of time. Stepping into her spacious bathroom, Willow turned on the shower and let her gown fall from her body. Getting inside, she felt her muscles relax as the heated water pelted her bare skin. Quickly grabbing her soap, she began to cleanse herself. Starting with the top of her head and hair, she made her way down. Soon enough, she was rinsed and out, wrapped snugly in a towel. One for her body and another for her hair. She slipped into one of her usual simple dresses and wiggled her feet into some tall lace-up shoes. Pulling her towel from her head she let her pale lavender hair fall to her knees. As she braided it tightly, she pondered if she should get it hair cut. Biting her lip, she shook her head to herself. No. She was too sentimental for that.

Rummaging through her compact refrigerator, she found the leftovers she saved from the night before. Throwing it in the microwave for a minute she said a quick prayer over the food and sat down to eat. It was a small meal. A glass of water, two biscuits with a honey spread, but it was filling nonetheless. When she was finished, she cleaned her already spotless kitchen and prepared to go out for the day. She needed to find something to do before her afternoon classes. Willow slid her small ocarina onto her neck, her wooden staff onto her back, and messanger bag over her shoulder.

Opening the door to enter the hallway she released a startled yelp. With it's hand poised to knock on her door was an AI. Willow placed a hand on her chest and calmed her breathing as the AI stared at her. Seemingly waiting for her to get her bearings together. She cocked her head to the side and smiled at it, a signal for it to continue on with what is was programmed to do.

"Uskose, Willow. Your Homeroom has been changed to second floor room 2-2-1-3. You will now report to Superior Professor Asher Donovan, during your morning hours at Anthemia. Any inquiries?" The artificial intelligence recited and waited for her response. Willow mulled it over before shaking her head. She was returning to class!

"No. Thank you, very much for telling me though." She replied politely. Giving the robot a shallow bow. It turned on it's heel and left her without another word. Willow, could hardly contain herself. Shutting her door behind her she sprinted down the hallways and staircases. Eager to get to her new homeroom. So it seemed that she was not being dismissed from the academy and now, she even had The Asher Donovan as her teacher.

Reaching room 2213, Willow hesitated for a moment. Her nerves chose to get the better of her right then. Curses. Taking a deep breathe, she steeled herself and pulled her immensely long and thick braid over her shoulder. Grasping the handle to the door, she twisted and pushed forward. Walking into the room gracefully, she showed no hint of her nerves. Stopping in front Mr. Donovan's desk, she bowed respectfully low. The end of her braid touched the ground and she rose. With a sweet smile, she introduced herself. "Willow Uskose. I am honored to make your acquaintance Professor Donovan."

She turned and quickly headed to a seat. Choosing one in the front row, she slid into it. Putting her satchel and staff on the floor beside her. Deciding it could not hurt to be friendly, she twisted her back and looked behind her at the boy who she was seated directly in front of (Robin) and flashed him a small, but bright smile. "Morning."

Crash! Crunch! "2-2-'BZZZRT-1-3" Zap, Crunch.

A cacophony of metallic crushing and electronic buzzing sounds just barely reached Joe through the haze of his sleep. He slowly opened his eyes, the sunlight burning as it met with his vision. After a few moments Joe found himself where he last left himself going to bed last night: A bench out on school grounds, Frank wrapped around his area. His summon, a rather significantly large trash dragon named Frank, had just swatted a robot who had made the time old mistake of walking up to a dragon without loudly announcing itself. Then again, to the untrained optic sensor his dragon looked like little more than a trash heap when prone.

"Ah heck. They're probably gonna charge me fer that." Joe shrugged. "Ah well, don't matter none too much. Never had much a need for money. Just means I'm gonna need ta find some meals fer a bit." Lazily he picked himself off the bench and stretched. The remains of the robot were pulled into Frank. The pieces that weren't completely crushed into slag in the first hit were ground into pure junk by the shifting wood, steel and stone that comprised of it's body. Raising it's head Frank was about the size of a small warehouse in both height at the shoulder and length from nose to tail tip. With the robot slag pulled into it it was now at the cusp of it's maximum mass limit. It was not an inconsiderable creature but Joe felt it could use to be bigger, something he hoped he would figure out how to do at this school.


Despite having had barely woken up Joe recalled the numbers the flattened robot blurted out in it's last moments. "That probably somethin' important. I'd better do some sleuthin'." He concluded, walking on his way to find something corresponding with the numbers. Given their arrangement they seemed to relate closest to room numbers. Either that or it was a phone number it didn't get to finished. He'd find out soon enough.

Joe hadn't had any missions since the last teacher died and quite frankly he didn't mind all that much. The free time gave him plenty of peace and quiet but there was always those rumors that buzzed around about inactive students getting booted. He wasn't really scared of that but getting tossed out would be inconvenient. He wanted to find out as much as he needed to know from this place before ditching it like his last place and taking to the road.


When he got to the entrance to the building he looked up to Frank. The dragon's face was expressionless as it was just a bunch of garbage arranged into a dragon shaped head but he could still tell it wasn't happy with him going somewhere it couldn't fit. It was just a knack Joe picked up after all these years of living with Frank. "Look buddy, I swear I'm not going to be too far out of reach. I think the room probably has a window you can look through. I'll call 'ya over when I find it alright? Try not to wreck anything alright?" He reassured Frank. The dragon sat down and simply waited, a clear enough signal for Joe to go through with it.

Eventually he found the door with the number the robot had blurted out in it's death throes. "Well, hope I ain't wrong here." He spoke mostly to himself as he pushed his way in through the door. Inside was a rather eclectic gathering of the more unusual students. There was a teacher he didn't really know anything about and well, that was about it. He'd of cared more about the details but he didn't think it was of much importance. Simply striding through he went over and opened a window, sticking his head out. He gave a loud sharp whistle which rang out across the general area. "Yo, Frank! I found the right place!" He yelled out hoping Frank heard him. He turned away from the window a moment over towards the teacher. "This is the right place, right?" He asked, hoping he didn't just walk into a classroom uninvited and disrupt everything. That would be mildly embarrassing, nothing too bad for him though. The biggest nuisance would be having to explain himself.

The whole room shuddered with each step of it's large feet. It was a gentle rumble at first but as it got closer the room shook quite a bit as Frank parked himself right outside the window, causing one last big thud as it sat. Though it didn't seem to have eyes of any sort it's head was looking in through the windows at Joe. "See Frank, I told 'ya it was gonna be fine." He told Frank through the open window. It's blank emotionless mass of trash that he calls a head didn't change at all but Joe was sure it got the idea. With that said Joe grabbed the seat closest to the window, always welcoming a chance to sit and rest whenever he gets the chance.

---

It was very strange, even still, to be this far from his sandy homeland. Cuddy, although thrilled to be at the Academy could not help but desire to see even an inch of sand once more. Just think of the sandcastles! But he'd put this behind him for now. There was more important things at hand to contend with. Such as the particular android that had been hunting down Cuddy that morning, with a supposedly important message for him, and unfortunately had found the boy hiding in an old closet. Why? Well why not dude! Where else you gonna hide?

"Vann, Cuddy, your home room has been changed to second floor room, 2213, you will now report to Superior Professor Asher Donovan during your mornings here at Anthemia, do you have any inquiries?" The android spoke in a matter-of-fact soulless voice.

"A-Ah don't think so! But if I eva' do then I'll be sure to let you know." The blonde boy answered cheerfully, his purple-y orbs glancing curiously over the talking-thing. What was it again? Android. Cuddy was still coming to grips with all the gizmos that the academy had, least of all the androids. It wasn't like he was completely oblivious to them but the little chit-chatty things were something of an annoyance to him now and again. Especially since they always managed to find him. "Oh well, ta-ta for now I guess. Next time tho' I'll win that round!"

Grabbing his things together and throwing a bag halfheartedly over his shoulder the boy made sure to be prepared for whatever came his way that day, taking a moment to double-check once more, before finally continuing on his way down the hallway. The android took it's leave and rushed off past him, Cuddy merely huffing with a shrug before walking just a little bit quicker. I better not be late or I'll look bad yo!

His hurried walk gradually shifted into a panicked run as the boy made his way to the designated classroom. Naturally, what with all the hurrying and mad-dashing, Cuddy arrived in time. With a deep breath and forced coolio demeanour the blonde lad sported his commonly used smile and stepped into the room. By the looks of it there was already a bunch load of people there before him, but he wasn't worried. Promptly walking over to the desk of Mr. Donovan the boy thought best to let his attendance be known. He sure-as-hell wasn't getting marked as absent!

"Oh, hello Mr. Donovan, sir! I'm Cuddy Vann. I hope am' not late or nothin'." With a somewhat chilled approach to his teacher Cuddy merely widened his smile in hopes of things getting off to a good start. "Well, I best be gettin' to my seat and all, a-- Oh yeah, your thee Asher Donovan? Wow-oh-wow I can't believe it! Hey I'm a real fan a--" Beneath all the rambling a quiet little inner voice deep in his head was telling Cuddy to shut-up. Needless to say it took a few more minutes before the boy took any notice. "Ah, sorry I best be goin'!"

Turning on his heel the student moved along and sat himself down on one of the seats towards the front. He hadn't really took the time to notice who exactly was in his class, but after spinning round on his seat the blonde lad eyed up all the faces near and around him, only really vaguely knowing a few. Oh well. He figured he'd get to know them soon enough anyway. For now he'd just behave himself at least.

Throwing his bag to the floor and chilling in his chair Cuddy waited to see what happened next. However, the whole lookin' cool and doin' not a lot act didn't last long. Before he knew it the boy dug out an old what-dah-call-it and was fiddling around and tinkering as always.

---

---

For the first time in a while, the thought came to him again.

“Well, these things happen.”

Months had passed, and Lev still couldn’t think of anything more than that apathetic phrase when the image of their former teacher, killed in a mission, appeared in his mind. Admittedly, this somewhat worried him.

It had been the first time in his life a person close to him – at least in the sense that they saw each other almost every day – was taken by Daemons and, contrary to what he had initially expected, it didn’t affect him that much. It did take him by surprise when he heard the news and even got him wondering how such a tragedy could have occurred to a Huntress he had always perceived as careful and reliable, but minutes later he was more preoccupied with how he would face his numerous fees with the limited budget he received from the Academy and the following weekend he hadn’t spared a single second of thought on her.

He didn’t appear to be the only one though. Fellow Hunters seemed at a loss during the week when she died, wondering if the incident had occurred due to a malfunction, a mistake or an irregularity of a different sort, but eventually people ran out of curiosity on the matter and it was as good as settled. It made sense; they were at war and even if they didn’t have access to the exact numbers as they were still in training, students in the Academy could figure out many men and women died each day. Daemons didn’t rest or mourn, and there was no noticeable sign that their numbers were decreasing, so how could humanity spare time and resources for those who had fallen?

Still, this woman had shared wisdom with those who would become the next generation of humanity’s vanguard against Daemons to ensure its survival in the future, and in her spare time joined Hunters in the field to fight like a soldier. There was no way that such a lifestyle had left her any time to form a family of her own or pursue any ambitions. Almost her entire life, from late childhood to death, had been sacrificed to fight for humanity, which was more than the overwhelming majority of people could say, and still it was most likely that a decade from now no one would remember her face or even her name. No; that was a privilege that was saved only for those who knew when to die, made beautiful speeches to earn a cozy seat in one of the major cities’ government or, even better, were willing to print their faces on pop magazines so that a new generation of teenagers could grow up with propaganda-fueled dreams of unrealistic glory.

But “these things happen” indeed.

Maybe what bothered Lev was the acknowledgement that, as selfish and despicable as this society that ignored the genuine devotion of a brave woman resulted to him, he would still prove exactly the same as them.

Perhaps, despite his attempts to convince himself that he was fighting for mankind and not for himself, he was scared of facing the fact that his efforts would still make him no more than a nameless soldier in history at most.

Or maybe he had too much free time to spend thinking on pointless trails of thought.

“OI! OI LEV! FUCKING OI!”

Suddenly, the surrounding background he had been pushing back in his mind brusquely recovered its colors and life; the sound of heavy machinery at work and raspy voices of middle-aged men and women screaming obscenities at each other echoed in his eardrums again and demanded his attention, prompting him to wonder how he had been able to space out in the first place. He sought the voice that called his name through the framed visor of his face shield and soon spotted a short-haired and generously bearded man he recognized as Gene, one of the more experienced workers and student supervisors.

“Sum n’droid ‘ere s’got a messige for ya or sumthin’. It’s in da way, so go lissen to it so it leaves awlready!” he said, not bothering to hide his irritation or the fact that he was in a hurry.

Lev freed one of his hands to signal an ‘ok’ to his boss, who stormed off expressing his distaste for androids in mumbles to no one in particular, making an exemplary use of the word ‘fuck’ and all its known variables plus a few others. Good guy though. Occasionally.

Putting his tools away, Lev made his way to the entrance of the Academy’s arsenal, where he had been spending all his mornings for the past few months. All Scholar students in their last obligatory year were required to complete a certain amount of hours of actual work in their discipline, among other tasks, and seeing as he already visited the arsenal with some frequency, it was no surprise he ended up resorting to it to complete his academic duties. He had actually fulfilled this requirement some time ago, but since he had no morning classes ever since the death of his home room teacher, he preferred spending his time there helping with the avalanche of work the mechanics found themselves underneath of due to the increased frequency of Hunter deployments.

Every single day there were new jeeps, tanks, boats, swords, guns, androids and ammunition to repair, upgrade or manufacture, and they were always running late. Able hands were never missing and there were no restrictions on going over the minimum service hours, so Lev’s presence was always welcomed and appreciated. Besides, this way he got to see all sorts of newly developed machinery, even if he wasn’t allowed to actually work on the most expensive ones.

He opened the entrance door and, sure enough, an android waited with infinite patience on the other side. Standing uncomfortably close to Lev, it seemed to instantly identify him.

“Keisting, Lev. Your home room has been changed to second floor room, 2-2-1-3, you will now report to Superior Professor Asher Donovan during your mornings here at Anthemia. Do you have any inquiries?”

Expecting a less relevant message, it took the young man a few seconds to process what he had heard. He checked his ancient wristwatch and briefly wondered why he would be notified in such a short notice of his new schedule, but figured his intercom, which he had left in the locker room, would be filled with messages of failed attempts to communicate with him a while ago.

“No, you can go.” He finally answered the android’s question as he remembered it was still waiting for his response without the slightest sign of apprehension, and instantly closed the door on it. The last ad Lev had heard consisted on a jingle with choreography included, which only made him feel ashamed on the robot’s behalf. Besides, some of the mechanics in the armory had taken to vandalizing the robots as a way to express their discontent when they showed up merely to promote their commercial, and if any of them saw it, it could only mean trouble for everyone.

Having no time to waste, Lev broke the news to Gene and left for his dorm, where he had to fight a mountain of broken machinery and spare parts to get to the bathroom. He showered, changed into his uniform and saved the disassembled parts of his firearms into a wheeled bag in record time, taking special care with his ‘Stingray’ sniper rifle.

Even with the heavy additional weight, he managed to keep a good pace and found his new classroom in only a few minutes despite being more concentrated on trying to remember where he had heard the name Asher Donovan rather than keeping track of where he was going. Before entering, he stationed and chained the large bag outside the class, seeing as it was too large to keep inside without it inconveniencing people. Though he did notice Noel appreciating the view through a window with a distinct air of nostalgia around her, he had no words of encouragement to share, and decided to go straight into the unknown.

As he stepped into the classroom and took in the image of his new teacher and classmates, he waited a few seconds to gather his thoughts. He finally remembered why Asher’s name seemed so familiar, and recognized his face from the cover of one of those magazines some girls around the Academy always seemed to have at hand. Although he was sure his new professor was a reliable and capable Hunter, the idea of learning under a pop idol didn’t fascinate him, and for many reasons. He then turned his attention towards the students; most of them seemed to be busy doing their own things, one of them was asleep, and there was a dragon sculpture made of trash peeking through a window… good vibrations all ‘round.

“Mornin’” he greeted the room with an unenthusiastic tone, briefly noticing in terror that Gene's dialect was slowly rubbing off on him. “Lev Keisting.” he added when he noticed the checklist on top of Asher’s desk.

With nothing to add or comment, Lev scanned the room for a free seat and headed straight for the last row. The only ones close to being neighbors to him were Caesar and Lorelei, both having already taken the corners of the classroom and each sitting a distance of two or three desks away from him. Having nothing more to do, he sat back and patiently waited for the rest of the students to show up.

---

---

---

---

Kenji lay sleeping on a park bench as his familiar poked at his face in an attempt to wake him up. Every once in a while a person would casually stroll on by giving strange glances towards the guy sleeping on a park bench being poked at by what seemed as a cat. This was not unlike Kenji though as he had to live this sort of a life style because of his grades. School has never been his strong suit and studying was a daemon all of it's own to fight for Kenji, and considering he never liked to study it never got easier. That combined with his lack of will to pay attention school what was not what he expected, his vision was a battle of strength and will the person who was strongest rained supreme. Sadly this was not so, intelligence and tactical styles with a mix of precision and strength all combined into making a good student. Only having half of that has kept him pretty far from the title of valedictorian.

Not to mention it also made so the fact he earned an almost minimum when it came to allowance. For a while he had been rooming with a somewhat friend it was good, but having to keep his tail a secret when rooming with someone is hard. On top of the fact that he was kicked out yesterday because Kenji has a habit of leaving a messy room and when you are told to pick up and your answer is "uh..ya...on day." While reading book you can get into a situation that you may not have wanted. That is exactly where Kenji is, reduced to sleeping on a park bench, but he has saved up a bit of money since rent was free and he ate the bare minimum keeping good track of money and what he was spending it on.

After a solid ten minutes of his face being prodded by his familiar he finally awake. Looking around he had a stupidly happy smile on his face, but after noticing where he was and feeling his back his expression turned into a part silly sad face. Standing up and having a good stretch with his spine cracking with ounce of pressure put on it. "Note to self find a place to stay and soon. Bench's equal bad for your back it seems." He said while looking at Riku.

Riku hopped onto Kenji's shoulder and they started to set off towards the city to get some food. Twenty-minutes later after a quick bite and almost getting into a brawl, which is the usual for Kenji, he returned to the bench which had turned into a semi-home for now. Just as he dropped down on to the bench and closed his eyes getting ready to go take a nap a voice was heard right over his shoulder. With a glance back an android was standing there ready to say something. "Kenji Yamanaka, your home room has been changed to Second floor room, 2-2-1-3, you will now report to Superior Professor Asher Donovan during your mornings here at Anthemia, do you have any inquires?"

Kenji looked back at the android with a puzzled face . This was either really good because now he wouldn't have to worry about being dropped from the school. Or it could be bad since this means a return to the curse of having to study or for him not studying. Snapping back to reality he turns from the android throwing up a hand as he walks away towards the school. "No, I'm fine go back to whatever you were doing." He said as if it was more of a annoyance then anything else. As he walked he tried to think of the name Asher Donovan, Kenji could have sworn he had heard it somewhere, but he couldn't recall because most likely he wasn't really paying attention so he must not be that important.

His habit of picking fights had seemed to not diminish at all almost getting into a couple brawls just on his way to school. When he got to school he noticed his nickname The Blue Devil or Monster didn't seem to go away even without him causing trouble on campus itself for sometime, though that was bound to change soon enough since he couldn't be away from fights for long. Reaching the school and it seemed as if he would finally get back to clearing this world of its evils be it the daemons or humans who would act as daemons. It didn't matter to him as long as in the end this world was a better place Kenji has no problems becoming the monster needed to accomplish that, just as he had done once before. The class room was finally in sight which hopefully he wasn't going to be the first, but not last either as he is usually late this time he may have gotten lucky because of the bench and it being a poor choice of comfort. Opening the door to the room it seemed as if their were already quite a few people inside. It didn't seem as if he was late which might be something that should be praised as his first and last time.

All his excitement to get back to school to hunt down some daemons seemed to fade the second he opened the door realizing that normal school also had a factor. He sighed looking at the new teacher with an un-entertained expression. "Hey, I'm Kenji." He said with as little effort as needed. Giving a half wave along with it he dragged himself towards the back of the class room taking a seat there. Taking his wrapped swords off his back and placing it against his desk he sat down placing his arms on the desk and resting his head on them. Still keeping his head up though so that he could check out his other classmates trying to pick out who he was going to avoid, and checking out the girls picking out the cutest. His secret technique of storing all his energy during class by putting in almost no effort so that he would have double outside and during fights was now an official go.

Amurel sat on the floor in her room, completely absorbed in her computer and the task at hand. Last year she had been tasked to translate a book - it was never specified if it was for her benefit of learning, or to have someone willingly do it for free, she always accepted it as a little bit of both. She murmured each word under her breath as she typed it and read it from the book to help ingrain it into her memory. Speaking these foreign or dead languages was was not commonplace, the only opportunity she had was to usually speak with the professors that had learned them - which was minimal. Languages were not in the forefront of most people’s minds when they thought of fighting the daemon. Nonetheless she was eager to learn.

Peeking out of her window she noticed the sun was starting to just come up. Amurel never slept very long, four - maybe five hours at the most a night. Her mind was constantly going, remember everything she'd gone over that day and waiting to absorb more information. It was something she eventually had gotten used to, but she missed the quiet of when she was younger. Turning her attention back to translation, she hardly heard when there was a ping to indicate a message. Upon realization she quickly stood and moved to her Inter-Comm System;

"Sarcadia, Amurel, your home room has been changed to Second floor room, 2-2-1-3, you will now report to Superior Professor Asher Donovan during your mornings here at Anthemia, do you have any inquires?

Amurel squinted with concentration, her mind stuck in the other language and unable to comprehend her common tongue. Thinking for a moment she sighed with frustration and then it clicked what the message had said.

"Oh, no questions thank you."

Going back to her computer she looked at the book on the floor that she was translating. Picking it up gently she thumbed through the last few pages that she had yet to complete Only three more pages she thought to herself. Sitting back down cross-legged she went back to work, forgetting completely about the message she had received seconds ago. Although Amurel had a knack for remember everything she heard, read, or was taught, when she was working on something important to her she was able to quiet her mind - stopping everything from running through it.

The last few pages of translations took her slightly more time than usual, around five to ten minutes. This was slower for her, but many of the words she had never seen before and had to retrieve some of the notes the professor had given to her for just such an occasion. She closed the book and stood to place it in her bookshelf, then reached her arms in the air reaching high to stretch. Just as she took a sigh of relief from completing it, she remembered the information she had received. Rushing to her door she threw it open and ran out towards the location the message had specified. Slowing right before she reached the door, she smoothed her short hair and took a deep breath to recover from the physical exertion. She walked into the room noticing many of her fellow classmates had already arrived, then turned to the professor.

"Hello sir, Amurel Sarcadia. I apologize for my lateness."

Bowing deeply to the professor, she gave no excuse for why she was late, and instead moved to a seat towards the middle of the room. She began quietly murmuring words in other languages, a nervous habit she had picked up in order to calm down. As she did so she rubbed the tattoo on her neck and looked down, as to not draw any more attention to herself.

It wasn't long before he realized that he had hid behind his 'great wall' for quite the time now, as when he put down his bag, already several other classmates had joined in. Putting down his bag on his thighs, he briefly scanned the room. There were three new classmates to be exact and they were all people that he found similar, yet absolutely no recollection of it in his memories. A fairly short purple haired girl, another girl with a long silver haired and a black haired boy, who decided to take a seat at the front of the class. But because he was only looking front, he completely missed another girl.

Caesar turned his head to the right, and found one of perhaps the rarest moment he could even have in life. She had a two toned hair, one black and the other white, the former facing him where they're sitting. She was sitting in an extremely disciplined manner, as if she went through military training but despite that, Caesar finds that she has an attractive aura around her. It could be because even though she gave off a demanding or a strong image, but he feels that something about her made him feel similar. But if anything...

She looks pretty. That was Caesar first and foremost impression. While her attire and her hair may come off as a weird combination to some, but to Caesar, it felt unique. Sure, there may be other more quirky or weird people around him, but Caesar just couldn't put her the same as those other people. The black and white combination with teal colored linings on her garb only serves to compliment her fair white skin. Caesar immediately got curious and leaned forward, trying to get a better look at the pretty girl next to him.

When he switched to another angle, the face that was blocked by the black hair previously were now visible. Her expression was a disciplined one, just like the way she sits on her chair. Her teal colored eyes, her sharp chin and her small lips were all but definitions that make her look all the more feminine. Should the girl ever decide to dispose of her tough exterior, there would be no doubt that she would be one of the most beautiful girls he'll ever meet - save for Nexus, that is. Wow... I've never met someone like her... She's pretty...

"I sense an intrusion. Someone's probably digging into your head, kid. You should be careful of what you're thinking, Caesar. Who knows what they might be plotting. The sheathed orange blade's voice rang in his head. Caesar took note of his, but he remained staring at the rare moment beside him. The blade then continued. "Well, the girl is definitely one of a kind. Judging the powers emitting from her, she's probably one of 'em water exorcists. I don't like those kinds. They make me sick." Then, in order to silence the annoying brother, the two guns at Caesar's waist spoke up as well. "Didn't you say there was someone trying to listening in on Caesar's mind? Stay quiet or they'll know of our existence, you idiot. Also, Caesar, dear, don't stare at the girl too much. She might notice it and think that you're weird."

Just as Nexus said that, Caesar realized what he was doing and quickly shrunk back to his seat, holding his back tightly to his chest. I hope I didn't make a bad impression... I can't help but feel attracted to her... If Nexus was in her human form, she would be patting his head now. The blade, Nefarius, should be attempting to say something now, but Nexus immediately stopped him, blocking the signal of Nefarius' messages from reaching Caesar's mind. For the moment, they both decided to stay quiet and left Caesar alone. The girl was one of the few people that Caesar pays extreme attention to, and if things work out, maybe the girl can help Caesar express more of himself and perhaps kill Caesar's shyness.

---

---

The young psychic, for her part, had been trying her best to ignore everybody else in the room while not seeming inattentive to the teacher's actions - after all, the last thing she wanted to do was miss her instructor's orders and be seen as a disinterested egotist by a figure of authority who would doubtless be obligated at some point to give a report to her supervisor - that man she so despised, Dr. Bessiger. However, without her headphones to drown out the noise, several voices began to force their way into her mind, different murmured words from countless different students pouring into her unwilling consciousness, blending together into a completely unintelligible stream of half-sentences, images, and vague emotions. Lorelei gritted her teeth, trying to ignore the ever-rising cacophony of thoughts that assaulted her, when suddenly, a single voice, closer, much clearer than the others spoke out, its quiet, awestricken tones drawing her attention to it simply by virtue of the fact that she could understand it. The moment she focused her attention on this voice, all other sounds ceased, as though drowned out by those murmured words.

"Woah... I've never met someone like her. She's pretty..."

Lorelei's eyes rose up from where they had been focused blankly ahead, slowly peering to the right to see whose thoughts, exactly, she had begun to read. An image of herself displayed through the eyes of another emerged as she followed the source of the words that had suddenly caught her attention, drawing her to focus on the boy sitting next to her, watching him out of the corner of her eye as he continued to stare at her, seemingly transfixed. "He seems... young..." The psychic mused to herself, somewhat surprised by how he looked. Granted, this was a school for aspiring warriors, and she had no doubt that his actual age was somewhere close to her own, but his appearance nevertheless evoked a somewhat deceptively childlike image that belied the darkness deep within his red-brown eyes. His hair was a dusty brown shade, like a maple leaf just beginning to redden with the onset of fall, while his skin was tanned from the light of the sun in some places, and yet still remained pale and fair. Actually, with his soft-looking face and small size, he almost seemed like a girl, considering his rather pointed lack of facial hair or even stubble to show that he'd once had some, and the fact that he probably wasn't much taller than she was. He had the look of somebody who'd been forced to grow up in mind faster than his body could match, with an appearance that simultaneously evoked images of a youthful teen and a homeless drifter. People like him were all too common nowadays. Yet, despite his out-of-place image, Lorelei immediately noticed a slight smile on his face, as though remaining there out of cheerful habit even though his attentions were currently elsewhere. That, she realized, was unusual for someone who was probably one of the many working orphans left in the wake of Daemon attacks. It was almost impressive, seeing a kid like him grinning after whatever events had caused him to come here with that mature look in his eyes. Lorelei grimaced slightly as she realized that she'd just been getting dangerously close to staring herself, and turned her focus back towards the far wall, flushing slightly as she continued to perceive his eyes running over her, as though he was intent on burning a hole in the side of her head.

"Huh. I wonder if he knows what I am. Probably not, considering he's ogling me as though I was a normal person. Er... He does realize he's been staring at me for the past thirty seconds, doesn't he? And that I've noticed? So why hasn't he stopped? What is he, some sort of space case?" Lorelei's eyebrow twitched slightly as she raised it in equal parts confusion and annoyance. The boy's attraction to her had provided an interesting diversion that had helped her shut out the voices of her classmates, and had thus given her some small peace of mind, but nevertheless, it was getting more than a little distracting having him leering at her, seeming intent on appraising every last aspect of her appearance without even taking into consideration the fact that she was a living, breathing person who was fully aware of his actions. She was just a few seconds away from snapping at him when, suddenly, a second and third voice rapidly reached her ears. They were indistinct, as though not meant for her, and their words nearly unintelligible, but from one - a low, booming masculine voice several decades older than the boy in whose mind it evidently resided, its words sounding like the roaring of a lion - she got a feeling of intense wariness and hostility, as though her own intrusions into his skull had been perceived, and this strange guardian was far from pleased, while the second - a gentle, distinctly feminine speaker whose words carried a lilting cadence like flowing water - merely seemed to be warning the boy that she'd noticed him. Lorelei raised an eyebrow. She knew it didn't mean much, coming from somebody who heard voices, but having two extra personalities in your head was probably a sign you had some serious problems.

Still, it wasn't any of her business. Butting into other peoples' thoughts was just asking to be singled out and derided. Her only duty was to fulfill her assigned objectives as quickly and completely as possible. Social interaction was both unnecessary and disadvantageous. So, although she had to admit that the boy's attention was certainly intriguing, responding now - especially after whatever those voices were had told him that she'd noticed - would only draw his ire. She would just ignore him, drown out his voice like she had done so many others before.

-Is what she told herself, but she found herself glancing furtively to the right again despite herself, hoping that she'd find the boy simply going back to what he'd been doing and ignoring her. It was in both of their best interest not to involve themselves with others at this juncture - and yet despite that thought, she found herself grimacing slightly with what she refused to admit was a sense of guilt as she found the boy hunched over, as though trying to hide his face in shame. Was he only trying to keep her from noticing him now, when he already knew she was onto him? She didn't even need to read his thoughts to see right through this boy. He must have been scared of what she thought of him now.

"I hope I didn't make a bad impression... I can't help but feel attracted to her..."

...Wait a minute, come to think of it, why would he care what she thought of him? Since when had her opinion meant anything to anyone? Maybe, she realized, she'd been too harsh in judging him. Even if the thought of being stared at disgusted her due to the constant fixation of the monitoring staff upon her, this boy was somewhat different, for one simple reason - he was viewing her as an attractive and interesting person, not just as an appealing object. So, even if it was probably just because he didn't know what she was, she supposed she'd forgive him for bothering her. His thoughts had been interesting enough to read, after all, and his honesty did him credit. So, Lorelei sighed silently, it seemed she would have to set things right. He had complimented her, after all, which was more than she could say for... well, pretty much anybody else she could remember ever interacting with, really.

"You know, it's kind of hard not to make a bad impression if you don't even say anything," She said at last, sounding equal parts resigned and vaguely amused as she responded to the words he'd only spoken internally. "Not to imply that I know a damn thing about social interaction, but I'm pretty sure you should at least give a woman your name before you gawk at her like you've forgotten how to move your eyes," She added, raising a finger to her own twin azure orbs, as though to say "My eyes are up here, by the way."

...Urk. Now he just looked more crestfallen than before. Had she come off as too stern? To be fully honest, she'd mostly just been trying to joke and lighten the mood a bit. The reason she'd seemed irritated was probably because she hadn't bothered to mask what frustration she did feel, not all - or even most - of which was his fault.

"Well? You were the one who started staring at me, so don't expect me to introduce myself first. I kind of like the sound of it, so if you're not going to give me anything to call you, you can just keep calling me 'Pretty' as payment," She said sarcastically, giving a faint yet smug half-smirk that went completely against her stoic countenance a moment prior. Figuring that since the teacher probably couldn't hear her from where he was, wasn't paying attention, and, even if he was, likely wouldn't care, and that she'd probably never have to interact with this boy again anyway, she might as well take the chance to amuse herself a bit without worrying about what other people thought of her. With any luck, the kid would loosen up a bit, calm down, and stop beating himself up over something she honestly didn't care all that much about. After all, compared to being monitored 24/7, being stared at for a few seconds and complimented for it was a non-issue. Either he'd probably take her jokes in stride and distance himself, or, if he decided not to take the hint and keep trying to start a conversation, she'd tell him who she really was to scare him off. Nobody wanted to associate themselves with a subhuman. She was sure that this boy would be no exception.

...Still, although she should have been relieved by the knowledge that she could poke a little fun at this boy without worrying about any further interactions with him or any opinions he might formulate, though, somehow the thought that he'd probably go from complimenting her to hating her the moment he knew who he was talking to was a little depressing. Lorelei found her momentary grin vanishing in an instant as she sighed to herself. Couldn't be helped, she supposed. That was just how people were.