Crimson Flight
华裔机甲迷
- Location
- Victoria, Australia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I'll leave votes open until Fri morning because I got a plane to catch tomorrow morning.
Last edited:
Cosmic Illumination - JRPGesque Space Magic Academy
- Thread starter Crimson Flight
- Start date
- Original Sci-Fi Fantasy
Socialising: Big Friendship Energy
Crimson Flight
华裔机甲迷
- Location
- Victoria, Australia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Illuyanka
When you stepped into the classroom the day after embarrassing yourself in that failed attempt to dress down a classmate, you had anticipated a litany of responses from the other students of Class 1-B. You had assumed they would pass judgement on your rudeness, whether it be through accusatory eyes following your every step or simply disparaging little remarks murmured behind your back. Or maybe they would actively ignore your very presence, mere silence serving to condemn your indignities.
Not a single one of your predictions came true. You saw no antipathy, no censure. Barely any of your classmates even cared to look in your direction.
And that was just to be expected. For what reason would they expend such effort? The worries that festered inside your heart were no reflection of reality. As much as the shameful words of yesterday gnawed at you … they were the furthest thing from your classmates' minds. The assumptions you made of your peers were but overblown, solely products of your own anxieties.
Yet, even though you were aware of that fact, the guilt and shame still dug its tendrils deep inside your gut. Those illogical, stupid feelings absolutely refused to disappear, instead choosing to irritate you throughout the day. An undercurrent of frustration and embarrassment with no outlet whatsoever. Because you had no intention of burdening Theoxena or anyone else with your own self-pity. Not in the slightest.
So instead, you chose to endure it. You did your best to ignore the pulsating discomfort - mild as it was - that continuously flared up every time your thoughts dared to stray.
Because you were worrying over nothing. The awkward feelings bottled up inside … they were - they should have been - utterly irrelevant.
Still, when the final bell rings, signalling the end of the day's learning, it is with relief that you rise from your seat, your mind finally granted stay from the constant prodding and prickling of those muddled thoughts. Now, you have the opportunity to find some sort of distraction from their presence.
"Hey Sieghild!"
At least, that was the original plan.
The very moment you leave your desk, intent on leaving the classroom, a tower of precariously-stacked boxes manifests in the corner of your eye. An unavoidable pillar of cardboard shambling your way. Blocking your path to freedom. And even worse, it speaks with a voice that you had not wanted to - did not want to - hear at all right now.
Illuyanka cares naught for your inner lamentations, however. Likely because she cannot see any part of your face from behind her massive amounts of cargo.
"Wanna help me with these boxes?" is what she says next, even though she does not look or sound as if she is in any way exerting herself.
"... For what possible reason would I want to?" It comes out a little harsher than you want, and you quickly attempt to dial it down. You don't want a repeat of yesterday. "What are you, ah, doing with them?"
"Eyvindur said I had to take stuff to the office so I was like, yeah, I'm all about the boss life so you can count on me!" the Antuhsas girl explains with that obnoxious cheer of hers. "But right now my wings feel stiff and itchy so I'm doing … boss things and getting help from people too. Give orders, yep?"
"And you chose … me."
"I asked Duscha first but she's buying protein so I don't wanna muck up her quest for gains. Girl loves her gains. But you look free so I was all why not have you be my minion?"
You can think of quite a few reasons.
"Plus, you look pretty smart too."
But you aren't … entirely opposed to helping her in this duty.
You find the logic behind her decision-making to be somewhat suspect. In what world, on what planet, and in which star system, would you ever be suited to serve as her ... minion of all things? Yet, even if you still think Illuyanka to be unsuited for the role of class representative, the fact remains that the position is hers. If the combat teacher has entrusted her with the boxes for some reason, then to ensure that no idiocy interferes with her job, somebody should provide assistance. Not because you approve of her or anything like that, flattery or not, but if it falls to you to make sure she succeeds, then it simply cannot be helped. After all, is it not expected that you help those beneath your station?
Lightening some of her burdens is the best way to make sure nothing goes wrong. You can at least recognise that.
And after yesterday's rude treatment … you feel that you should at least … recompense her.
"Very well," you sigh, holding your arms out. "Just hand me the boxes."
She doesn't hesitate. "Awesome. Don't drop 'em."
The topmost boxes rattle as they drop off the tower and into your arms, and you feel yourself immediately straining. They're heavier than you expected. Not so much that you have trouble, but to think that Illuyanka can carry so much so easily …
Well, an arm wrestling contest would have likely been even more humiliating.
As you follow the Antuhsas out into the hallway, you find yourself observing the way she moves through the crowds. Or the way she doesn't. Illuyanka looks entirely oblivious to how much space her wings take up, strolling forth with no consideration of how others are to dodge past her and the large complement of boxes in her arms. If she was actually paying any attention whatsoever to her surroundings, you would have no qualms in describing such behaviour as utterly selfish.
Instead, she doesn't seem to be paying attention to anything at all.
"Say, how strong are you?" she says suddenly.
"... Pardon?"
"All the chiefs back home were really buff," Illuyanka continues, your confusion completely lost on her. "And you went hunting in a monster system, so you're definitely tough, right? Not as much as me though."
"I … suppose?" You don't really know what to make of the question, or whether or not to feel offended by the implication that you aren't as powerful as she is. Actually, it's more surprising to you that she's capable of remembering your disaster of a speech.
But … she doesn't appear to hold any ill will towards you. Santa-ziti's predictions were entirely correct in that regard.
It's admittedly a bit disconcerting.
"We should fight some time. It'll be fun!"
"What if I don't want to?"
"Come on, we can get swole together!" Her wings flap vigorously, and your concern for both the safety of her boxes and passer-bys promptly skyrockets. "Good gains don't come to those who skip fights!"
"I have no idea what you mean."
"Oh, someone on the radio said it."
You sigh exasperatedly, even as you continue to follow after the spirited Antuhsas. The weight in your arms … the burden of helping her … it almost seems heavier than before. Is this really the caliber of class representative your peers elected?
However, if there is one thing you're certain of, at the very least -
"Anyway, what about smashing rocks or monsters? A contest would be fun!"
- Illuyanka is certainly an idiot.
~~~
[X] Theoxena
"This is not, ah, what I imagined when you spoke of fishing."
The current streams and ripples past your sunken legs, chilly water lapping constantly against exposed skin. You and Theoxena are standing in the shallows of a river, hunched over the calm water surface with heels firmly entrenched within the sand and soil to maintain balance. Above you, the day is on the cusp of transforming into dusk, and the weather - the very air around you - is becoming crisper and cooler as well. It's a novel and unfamiliar experience - one your upbringing has rarely been able to provide - and you cannot help but shudder every time a tiny little minnow darts past the sides of your bare feet, but as cold and ... slimy as it … you don't think the experience to be too bad.
No, you simply think it a little strange.
"Don't worry! It works, um, better than you think!" insists your companion, her gaze fixated on the water. She stands opposite to you, sleeves bunched up as she grips carefully onto her trident, its head partially submerged underneath the rippling surface. "But it's um, not really proper spearfishing though ..."
Even when accounting for your unfamiliarity with the fishing process, you are reasonably certain that proper spearfishing did not include somebody lowering the tip of their sword into a stream, cosmic energy flowing through the metal to release a gentle, etheric glow. But if Theoxena says that doing so would attract fish, you can trust her judgement on the matter. There isn't any reason to act otherwise, not when you have almost no practical experience.
"I just thought it would be more ... like that."
You gesture in the rough direction of a sight behind Theoxena. Further downstream - at least a dozen metres away - is a blue-haired student reclining against a camping chair, snoring away with a fishing rod in his hands. Yet he still has a line cast into the water, the float bobbing up and down as it waits for a fish to bite.
"Um, I don't have a rod," the emerald-haired girl says, craning her neck as she tries to look back. "And this way is more fun, I think? It's um, definitely a lot faster! There's not as much waiting."
"I suppose so." Although the water remains cold and there are moments where the touch of the riverbed against your feet feels ... disgusting, you think you would prefer it to sitting on the bank. You don't know if you have the patience for that. "But how exactly does my sword help?"
"Oh! So, um, in spearfishing, people use these things called flashers to attract fish." Your expression must have shown your ignorance, because Theoxena hurriedly continues her explanation. "They reflect light in the water and the um, fish are kind of, um, maybe hypnotised? So they come over."
You nod in newfound understanding. "Ah, then they assume the light reflecting off the flasher is ..." There's a short pause as you try and search for an example. "Reflecting off the scales of other fish, perhaps?"
"That's kind of it. So your glowy sword can, um, help like that, I think?" Theoxena looks sheepish. "I don't really know. It's um, a ... stab in the dark."
A thought spontaneously occurs to you, separate from absolutely any other possible reason. How would the two of you be cooking the fish?
The other girl awkwardly and hesitantly wiggles her trident. "... Because we're doing spearfishing and um, it's getting dark?"
"... I assumed that was your inspiration." You can't hold back the grumbling. You didn't want to recognise her terrible joke at all, but in this position, it's too difficult to turn away from her expectant gaze. Even so, just because you're acknowledging that you understand the thought processes behind her stupid pun, it doesn't mean you actually think they're amusing in any way whatsoever.
"... Um, did you like this one?"
"No."
"I'm sorry."
"Stop apologising!" is once again your response. In such a short time, it has become an unfortunate fixture of conversations with your far-too-apologetic roommate (friend). Why does she have to keep saying 'sorry' all the time? "Your terrible sense of humour isn't ... offensive, even if I don't know why you keep making bad jokes."
It bothers you; the uneasy tension that still remains between you and her.
"Sorr - but I think they're funny." Theoxena purses her lips. "But um, if you don't like them and want me to I can try and um, stop ..."
"Don't be ridiculous." Your voice rises a little. A part of you feels mildly irritated by the assumption that you would ... want to clamp down and restrict her habits like that. "I'm not here to throw cold water on your tendency for puns."
"..."
Oh no.
"S-stop staring at me like ... like that!" you snap, face flush. You're flustered, frantically looking around for escape, your chest tightening as abject embarrassment takes over. "It was ... I didn't ... that was entirely unintentional! It wasn't like I, ah, wanted to ..."
Theoxena's smile looks as if it wants to eat up her face.
"It's okay, Sieg!" she chirps, throwing you a thumbs-up. "I think it's good! But um, maybe a bit fishy -"
"D-don't patronise - don't, I didn't ... argh!"
She's already lost in a fit of giggles, trident forgotten, leaving you to stew in your ignominy and did you really unconsciously make such a bad pun? Ah, how utterly mortifying. You just want to drop yourself into the river and disappear before the shame burns your very face away. But that would only be even more farcical!
Aaaaah. There is no salvation from this, not a single soul able to save you from these accursed jokes. Nobody like the bespectacled newcomer who has appeared downstream, carrying a blanket in her hands for that sleeping fisherman.
So for want of any better option, you decide to simply stare down at the water, ignoring the heat in your cheeks as you continue to watch the shining tip of your blade. When will a fish arrive to put an end to your joke-induced misery?
Rather serendipitously, right now.
"Theoxena!" you cry, worries temporarily forgotten.
Propelling itself through the water is a massive specimen - one in possession of six eyes, a long, streamlined body and stiff, crescent fins. Lured in by the light, it has put itself in the perfect position for your companion to strike. But the immediate strike the two of you planned for does not materialise. Theoxena's trident comes far too late, missing entirely. And still caught up in her laughter and rushing to try fix her mistake, she trips -
"Aie!"
- And falls into the river with a large splash.
The fish takes the opportunity to ram your leg.
It's gross. The water. The fish's scales. Like sludge dredged from the bottom of a swamp it's entirely gross beyond measure and disgusting and it's sliding right past you at high speed -
"Use your magic!" Your blade slices down - trailing light through water - but to no avail. It's far too fast. "The fish is fleeing!"
Theoxena breaks free of the river with a wheeze, bubbles churning all around her.
"Jetstream Attack!" she shouts, thrusting her trident back into the surface.
It takes no longer than a moment. Once calm water ruptures, and the fish is exposed to air and sunlight, blasted upwards by that jet of pressurised water. Your instincts take over immediately, body moving in tune with your sword to skewer the target dead. Suspended right above the two of you. In mid-air, dripping wet.
You're silent. Theoxena is as well.
The dead fish squeaks as it slides further down the metal.
Downstream, the bespectacled girl quietly reels in a catch for her sleeping friend.
"We should have done this from the very beginning," you finally say, lowering both sword and fish.
"I don't um, think that would be good," Theoxena replies a little reservedly, stepping over to take a better look. "The um, fish gets stressed and there's more cortisol and … um, it's not good to eat."
"... Ah." None of that had occurred to you earlier. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologise!"
In the face of your flat look, Theoxena can't help but laugh once more, barely holding back her snorts. Her green cowlick is just as uncontrolled, swinging wildly around.
You just don't understand her sense of humour.
"Well it's, pmf, um … ha, it's my fault too," she says, struggling to control the laughter. "I, ha, should've um, hooked before I leapt."
You just don't understand at all.
"This is supposed to be spearfishing," you mumble, even as your shorter companion collapses into giggles again.
"S-sorry!"
A sigh leaves your lips as you slip the dead fish off the blade and into the bucket you two brought along. But for all the exasperation you feel right now …
"Let's just continue fishing."
… This little river expedition has its perks.
… Not that you will ever grow to tolerate her terrible wordplay in any way or anything. Simply because you find some enjoyment from spending time fishing with Theoxena does not mean you will ever let her off the hook for exposing you to her atrocious humour -
"Sieg? Why are you, ha, turning into a tomato? Sieg?!"
~~~
[X] Melissa
The restaurant is clean and well-lit, a cozy little establishment tucked into an alleyway not too far from the campus gates. Stone reliefs representing scenes from history and folklore line the walls, images of gods and heroes watching over the diners seated at their tables. The décor is admittedly eclectic, but the ambiance of it all suffuses the room with a warm and welcoming atmosphere. And although the restaurant is teeming with customers, its qualities - including the beautiful aroma that fills the air - are enough that you don't think you made a particularly bad decision in coming here for dinner.
Except, one tiny flaw remains.
Sitting directly opposite to you, Melissa serenely slurps soda up through her straw. Those golden eyes of hers flicker towards you, intensifying the uncomfortable silence that has fallen over your table. Never before have you felt a stronger urge to simply leave and find another seat, but thanks to some quirk of fate, or maybe a Divinity's terrible sense of humour, the chances of doing so … are almost zero.
Because the restaurant is at capacity, barely capable of handling the dinner time rush.
Because to your right, Chang is also present, glancing confusedly between you and Melissa, his very presence blocking your ability to just stand up and walk away.
For all intents and purposes, you're completely trapped.
"Hey, what kind of food did you order?" Melissa asks casually, ice tinkling as she puts her glass down on the wooden table.
The question catches you entirely off guard. "... Why do you want to know?"
"Just wanted to make some small talk," replies the freckled girl. "You were staring and not saying anything, so it was getting super awkward."
"I was not staring." you say almost instantly.
"You sure?"
"I am absolutely positive," you insist. "I was definitely not staring at you at all. There is no reason that I would. Whatever you think you saw is a mere consequence of us being forced to sit across from one another."
"Oh, uh ..." Melissa blinks, looking as if she wants to say something else, but instead she shrugs. "Okay, sure. Let's just go with that."
Her expression is mildly dubious, but you manage to hold yourself back from pressing the point. Engaging further with her misguided assumptions is a fool's errand. You know perfectly well that you did not want to stare at her.
"So …"
"... Curry with potatoes and pork cutlets," you answer reluctantly. If Melissa is so adamant about asking about your meal choices, then you really have no other choice.
She's not the only one to dislike this irritatingly awkward atmosphere.
"Oh, I haven't had that before." She sounds legitimately curious - and even more a rural girl than her accent suggests. "I wanted to try something totally new, so Chang said this place would supposedly expand my horizons."
"You're Sieghild, correct?" asks the said boy. It's the first time he has spoken since your arrival. "I don't think I've introduced myself. I'm Chang."
"Ah - yes." You cough into your hand. His sudden interjection is unexpected, but you quickly smooth over the brief surprise. "My name is Sieghild Scylding. A pleasure to meet you, Chang."
"In kind," he replies with a smile, brushing back his fringe. "How did you and Melissa meet?"
The other girl answers before you can. "We met all the way back at the station," she says, taking another sip of her soda.
A reminder that you neither wanted nor needed.
Thinking about the events of your disastrous first day is actively discomforting, in fact. It brings back memories of your unsightly behaviour and a near-death experience, and in this situation - her nosy and self-righteous (but not unwarranted) interference.
"I don't think first impressions were super great though," the brunette adds after a short pause, a rueful smile gracing her face.
This is why you didn't want to share a table with Melissa. Exposing yourself to the possibility of being castigated by her again - you just don't want to deal with it.
"People dislike it when strangers butt into their affairs." you shoot back, voice tetchy.
"Hey, it wasn't me who started things." Melissa's eyes are resolute. "I'm not going to let people jump off the handle whenever they want. Others totally don't like that too."
You shift in your seat, her gaze unexpectedly disquieting. You're painfully aware of the consequences of your own actions. And their effects on others. Yet even so -
Her judgement still irritates you. The sensation lurks right underneath your skin, like an itch that cannot be scratched.
"Nobody wants to listen to a lecture," you say quietly.
"I can see where she's coming from," Chang adds thoughtfully. His understanding comes as a surprise. "You did start dressing down those tourists earlier today."
Melissa looks as if she clearly didn't expect it either, but she remains undeterred. "They were chasing that stray … stubby cat-looking thing around," she says firmly, crossing her arms. "I can't just ignore that!"
"Longcats," he explains, nodding sagely. "They're actually a semi-reptilian species only distantly related to the common cat and solely native to this part of the galaxy."
"And they chased it into that old man's garden too. It was totally disrespectful."
"I know, you told them very loudly."
In spite of the somewhat downcast mood, you cannot help but snort. And then immediately snuff it out, suppressing the half-hearted laugh with a closed fist. It does not befit your station. Nor is anything of it funny to you whatsoever. Definitely not.
Unfortunately, you're not quick enough to avoid Melissa's notice.
"Was that a laugh?" she asks, glancing back in your direction.
"No." A second of noise cannot possibly be considered a laugh. You are certainly not lying.
The other girl purses her lips. But rather than make an argument to the contrary, something suddenly seems to dawn on her, comprehension alighting in her eyes.
However, you have no opportunity to find out what exactly that is. The arrival of food stymies any further questions. Not that you would have wanted to ask her anything. Instead, you gratefully take a plate from the peppy four-armed waitress and hand over a sizable tip, ignoring the expression Melissa gives you.
And with food acquired, the next few minutes pass in relative silence, with only your classmates' short and spurious bursts of chit-chat serving to interrupt your meal.
You don't particularly mind the lack of conversation. In fact, it appeals to you significantly more than talking to either Melissa or Chang.
Dining in silence ... is something that you have long grown accustomed to.
Melissa has not.
"Are you planning on joining a club?"
She speaks again right as you're about to start on the curry. Your spoon is already digging into the mound of rice, and yet the girl before you still wishes to make small talk. Does she really expect you to have the appetite for more chatter? When it's clear and obvious that all you want to do is finish your food?
Yet you can't bring yourself to eat. Even the scent of the curry on your plate - a strong, heady spice - is no longer rousing pangs of hunger from your stomach. As long as she's waiting for you to say something, there's only a sense of awkward discomfort, tangled up inside like a ball of yarn.
"I have yet to decide," you answer tersely, looking up from your plate. The issue of a club to join hasn't been a priority for you, even after that impromptu tour on the first day.
In the face of such bluntness, Melissa can only run an awkward hand through messy brown locks. Her expression seems almost exasperated, but more so a little lost.
"You're kind of hard to talk to."
Likely because you don't want to talk to her.
The seconds tick away.
Melissa clears her throat.
"How are things going with Theo?"
Your instinctive reaction is to ask why she even wants to know. Why does she care about that in the first place? The words die in your throat, hesitation gripping your chest. It … makes logical sense that she cares. Yet your mind is blanking - you don't want to not answer. You want to respond.
You can't avoid this one, and she seems to know it too.
Yet how can you give her an answer when even you don't really know how to say? Theoxena … considers you a friend and you … the feelings are very much mutual and everything so -
… It turns out to be easier than you thought.
"We're friends," you mutter, looking away.
Your spoon glides aimlessly about the curry. Your face grows hot.
But admitting it is just …
"Then I'll be rooting for you."
This time, Melissa's smile is gentle and full of cheer. She expresses it so easily, without any of the hesitation and anxiety you yourself possess.
Even so, does she really have to involve herself in every aspect of your life?
You quietly harumph, returning to your meal. The red of embarrassment still tinges your cheeks.
… You just don't know how to handle her.
~~~
[X] Evie
You find Evie lying on a bench right outside one of the greenhouses, back pressed to the cold metal surface, arms stretched out above her to hold a potted plant aloft. It dangles immediately above her face, its deep blue leaves and violet petals - almost the same shade as her soft hair - swaying against the cool afternoon breeze. In contrast, the girl is as still as a statue, with the slow rise and fall of her chest the sole evidence for her presence amongst the living. Her clouded crimson eyes are transfixed upon the flower, observing its gentle motions so intensely that you would think her unblinking.
Nevertheless, despite the snakeskin pattern on the scarf she wears, you are mostly sure that Evie is capable of blinking.
What you are absolutely not sure of, on the other hand, is whether or not even the Divinities can explain what exactly your classmate is doing with that plant, and why she seems so enraptured by it.
Simply watching her watch a flower, however, is no way to obtain a proper answer. In fact, it actually leaves you feeling a little awkward and even more uncertain. Standing a short distance away and gawking at her like some sort of … curious giraffe ... isn't doing much to enlighten you. There are definitely more effective methods.
Like asking her.
"Evie … where did you, ah, find that flower?"
"What?" Her attention snaps to you in an instant, eyes laser-focusing on your face. "Oh, this wee thing? Came from the greenhouse."
"Did one of the gardeners give it to you?" you ask as you approach the bench.
Evie makes room for you, pulling her knees to her chest and rolling herself up into a sitting position in one surprisingly smooth motion. It's an impressive sight, particularly given that her arms are still outstretched, hands tightly grasping the pot.
You idly wonder if she has ever done gymnastics.
"Saw it while walking by, and thought I might ask for it," she explains, handing it over when you sit down. It's a pretty thing in full bloom, so you think you can understand a little of why Evie was studying it so intently. "Didn't know it'd be so easy."
"I doubt they would greatly worry over a student receiving one," you muse, slowly turning the pot over in your hands. "Otherwise there would be no, ah, gardening club."
From what you recall of a short paragraph in the orientation materials, students of the gardening club would frequently help out in the greenhouses, growing and caring for plants that could be used in either experiments or the infirmary. For that reason, they were one of the more prominent of the numerous clubs on campus - enough that you could remember their existence off the top of your head (alongside the specialised workshops or certain special interest clubs such as skateboarding).
"Aye, that's fair." The lilac-haired girl holds out her hands, and you dutifully return to her the flowerpot.
But learning where she found it is only part of the story. You're still quite unsure why she's so preoccupied with it in the first place.
"So what are you planning to ... do with your new plant?"
"Eat it."
You barely have time to show your confusion before Evie abruptly plucks off a petal and palms it right into her waiting mouth.
She quietly chews away, unfazed by your bewildered gaze. Why would she just … eat a petal? You have been thrown completely off-balance. It's not at all proper for someone to randomly swallow pieces of plant life in this manner! But even as you scramble for something suitable to say, you're still at a loss for words.
In the end, you settle for the first thing to come to mind.
"... You, ah, realise it is … fungi season … right?"
At this time of year, Šapinuwa would see an uptick in numbers for a certain strain of fungal growth. It was a pest endemic to the temple city's gardens, where it would infect plant matter - both dead and living - in order to create for itself a doll-shaped body to puppet about. Only an hour earlier did you see one of them emerge from a bush, before it darted away on stubby, root-like legs to menace another of the many lawns on campus.
They could scarcely be described as a threat, but the thought of having unknowingly eaten an infected plant … your stomach churns. You try not to think about it. Not only does it sound demeaning … it's just disgusting.
Yet unlike you, Evie only has a serene smile.
"冗談, 冗談1." There's a small laugh behind her reassurances. She lowers her hand, revealing the petal hiding within her sleeve. It had never once been in her mouth. "It was only sleight-of-hand."
Everybody in this school has a terrible sense of humour. It's almost a certainty now.
"So what is its real purpose?" you ask with a sigh.
"Giving it to me roommate," the other girl explains, placing the pot down in her lap. "Should have a proper house-warming gift for her, you know? And she's a flower-loving lass."
"It would look quite beautiful on a window sill," you acknowledge.
"でしょ?2"
It's as good a reason as any, if a little more mundane than you expected. Yet as the conversation drifts away into an easy silence, you wonder if you should give Theoxena a present of your own. It would be … nice.
You quietly contemplate the scenery, while beside you Evie continues to bask in the flower's presence. The tranquility of it all is soothing, a welcome salve for the stresses of your first week as a student. Your first steps into the rough, unknown waters of a new life.
Whether you handled things well or not …
Idly, your gaze strays over to the lilac-haired girl.
All the problems you faced could have been worse. You don't know how. You can barely even begin to imagine what further strife could have befallen you. In all likelihood, the consequences of your personal failings could have been far greater.
But … you were able to avoid - mitigate - the worst of things. Maybe.
You breathe in. Even now, the memories of your shameful behaviour on that day continue to trouble you. They leave you exhausted and uncomfortable. It's hard to clamp on the dark mutterings at the back of your mind.
However, you push through. There's something you want to - no, need to say to Evie. It's been nagging at you, waiting for you to find the proper opportunity.
"... Thank you."
The words lurch free, mumbled and hesitant.
"Mm?"
Yet if Evie noticed the embarrassment … she thankfully doesn't comment.
"I, ah -" Your throat suddenly feels parched. "If you - if not for your help ... I don't know if I could have -"
Your halting, stumbling attempts reflect your untethered thoughts, scattered all about your mind like the aftermath of a whirlwind. The right words … the feelings you want to convey … they lie just out of reach, darting past your grasp as blood rushes to your head.
You breathe out, trying to calm the drumming of your heart.
"This isn't something I have ever been particularly good at," you finally manage to admit. "Without your sympathy … that little push ... I might not have tried to fix my mistakes. I might have made more. So … that's why - why I want to thank you. You had no reason to help, but -"
"Compassion's well enough for it."
Your classmate softly cuts you off, crimson eyes holding you in their gaze. "Hmm, but ... might be better to act less crabby in the future," she wryly adds.
"That … may be a difficult request," you mutter, looking down at your lap.
Your words hang alone in the silent air, their only companions the muffled activity of distant students. It bothers you how easily you can make a fool of yourself. It's not like you want to act so immaturely, but you're … scared - frightened that you might once again do something moronic.
And it's discouraging.
Evie silently watches you.
Then she reaches out and ruffles your hair.
You are completely unprepared for it.
"Why are you - What do you think you're doing?!"
You glare up at the other girl, heat creeping up your neck. She looks entirely too pleased with herself, patting your head like this! What in the Divinities' name is she thinking? Not that you think it's at all uncomfortable or anything of the sort and it's actually fairly nice but she has to ask before she just … ups and plays with your hair!
Simply because you find Evie to be good company does not mean she can treat you ... like a child. You have a reputation to maintain!
"Wanted to give this a fair try," says the lilac-haired menace to your dignity as if she currently isn't working to confound you. "Didn't work, huh?"
"Work? Whatever you have in mind, of course it isn't working!"
"... 仕方がない3." Much to your relief (and definitely not a tinge of disappointment), Evie glumly pulls away her hand. "Thought it'd help your petted lip."
"P-Pardon?"
"Scylding, there's nothing to be feart of," she says reassuringly. "It's only been 'bout a week, so you still have loads of time. Take it as it goes and it'll be all well."
Her enigmatic smile is an expression you find difficult to stay irritated with. You let out a long sigh. Once again, she's trying to nudge you along.
… You appreciate it.
"I ... suppose so," you admit, trying to inject a little positivity into your voice. "Tackling whatever lies ahead should be absolutely no problem for me."
You swallow down a burst of worry. The future is far from set in stone. You have no clue if you can even believe in your own words. Yet even so - you chose to attend the House of the Dawn in order to change yourself. For the freedom to carve a path that … you can be proud of.
Your first week … it's been rocky, uncertain. A terrible, shameful first impression. But in the grand scheme of everything, you still have the opportunity to change.
And one day, your flimsy dreams may possibly become reality.
---
Notes:
1. 冗談, 冗談 (joudan, joudan): just joking!
2. でしょ? (desho?): right?
3. 仕方がない (shikata ga nai): it can't be helped
Big Vote Time!
Now that Sieghild Scylding has begun to slowly integrate herself into the school rhythm (and sort of settled a few problems here and there), it's time for you to choose what clubs, student workshops and societies she'll be spending most of her time with throughout her student life. Some clubs she'll probably more time at than others, but all in all, it's good to participate in extracurriculars when you're young and not lamenting the lack of opportunities for self-enrichment.
Student Workshops (select one):
[] Engineering Club: By joining this club, Sieghild will hang out in the collaborative workspaces of the engineering halls, making use of her understanding of the natural sciences to work on projects with her fellow students. Very technology-oriented. Robots. Big on teamwork.
[] Alchemy Ateliers: Sieghild joins one of the many alchemical workshops on campus to further her understanding of how cosmic energy reacts with the physical universe, as well as other more esoteric things. This involves a lot of potion-making, a bit of enchanting, and a lot of craftwork. Also avoid getting sabotaged by rival workshops or having your secrets stolen. Tradition-minded people, alchemists.
Other Clubs and Societies (select two):
[] Archaeology Club
[] "Going Home" Club (Student Affairs)
[] Infirmary Volunteer
[] Gardening Club
[] Cooking Club
[] Write-in
Note: Special interest clubs tend require less participation from Sieghild and less responsibility.
When you stepped into the classroom the day after embarrassing yourself in that failed attempt to dress down a classmate, you had anticipated a litany of responses from the other students of Class 1-B. You had assumed they would pass judgement on your rudeness, whether it be through accusatory eyes following your every step or simply disparaging little remarks murmured behind your back. Or maybe they would actively ignore your very presence, mere silence serving to condemn your indignities.
Not a single one of your predictions came true. You saw no antipathy, no censure. Barely any of your classmates even cared to look in your direction.
And that was just to be expected. For what reason would they expend such effort? The worries that festered inside your heart were no reflection of reality. As much as the shameful words of yesterday gnawed at you … they were the furthest thing from your classmates' minds. The assumptions you made of your peers were but overblown, solely products of your own anxieties.
Yet, even though you were aware of that fact, the guilt and shame still dug its tendrils deep inside your gut. Those illogical, stupid feelings absolutely refused to disappear, instead choosing to irritate you throughout the day. An undercurrent of frustration and embarrassment with no outlet whatsoever. Because you had no intention of burdening Theoxena or anyone else with your own self-pity. Not in the slightest.
So instead, you chose to endure it. You did your best to ignore the pulsating discomfort - mild as it was - that continuously flared up every time your thoughts dared to stray.
Because you were worrying over nothing. The awkward feelings bottled up inside … they were - they should have been - utterly irrelevant.
Still, when the final bell rings, signalling the end of the day's learning, it is with relief that you rise from your seat, your mind finally granted stay from the constant prodding and prickling of those muddled thoughts. Now, you have the opportunity to find some sort of distraction from their presence.
"Hey Sieghild!"
At least, that was the original plan.
The very moment you leave your desk, intent on leaving the classroom, a tower of precariously-stacked boxes manifests in the corner of your eye. An unavoidable pillar of cardboard shambling your way. Blocking your path to freedom. And even worse, it speaks with a voice that you had not wanted to - did not want to - hear at all right now.
Illuyanka cares naught for your inner lamentations, however. Likely because she cannot see any part of your face from behind her massive amounts of cargo.
"Wanna help me with these boxes?" is what she says next, even though she does not look or sound as if she is in any way exerting herself.
"... For what possible reason would I want to?" It comes out a little harsher than you want, and you quickly attempt to dial it down. You don't want a repeat of yesterday. "What are you, ah, doing with them?"
"Eyvindur said I had to take stuff to the office so I was like, yeah, I'm all about the boss life so you can count on me!" the Antuhsas girl explains with that obnoxious cheer of hers. "But right now my wings feel stiff and itchy so I'm doing … boss things and getting help from people too. Give orders, yep?"
"And you chose … me."
"I asked Duscha first but she's buying protein so I don't wanna muck up her quest for gains. Girl loves her gains. But you look free so I was all why not have you be my minion?"
You can think of quite a few reasons.
"Plus, you look pretty smart too."
But you aren't … entirely opposed to helping her in this duty.
You find the logic behind her decision-making to be somewhat suspect. In what world, on what planet, and in which star system, would you ever be suited to serve as her ... minion of all things? Yet, even if you still think Illuyanka to be unsuited for the role of class representative, the fact remains that the position is hers. If the combat teacher has entrusted her with the boxes for some reason, then to ensure that no idiocy interferes with her job, somebody should provide assistance. Not because you approve of her or anything like that, flattery or not, but if it falls to you to make sure she succeeds, then it simply cannot be helped. After all, is it not expected that you help those beneath your station?
Lightening some of her burdens is the best way to make sure nothing goes wrong. You can at least recognise that.
And after yesterday's rude treatment … you feel that you should at least … recompense her.
"Very well," you sigh, holding your arms out. "Just hand me the boxes."
She doesn't hesitate. "Awesome. Don't drop 'em."
The topmost boxes rattle as they drop off the tower and into your arms, and you feel yourself immediately straining. They're heavier than you expected. Not so much that you have trouble, but to think that Illuyanka can carry so much so easily …
Well, an arm wrestling contest would have likely been even more humiliating.
As you follow the Antuhsas out into the hallway, you find yourself observing the way she moves through the crowds. Or the way she doesn't. Illuyanka looks entirely oblivious to how much space her wings take up, strolling forth with no consideration of how others are to dodge past her and the large complement of boxes in her arms. If she was actually paying any attention whatsoever to her surroundings, you would have no qualms in describing such behaviour as utterly selfish.
Instead, she doesn't seem to be paying attention to anything at all.
"Say, how strong are you?" she says suddenly.
"... Pardon?"
"All the chiefs back home were really buff," Illuyanka continues, your confusion completely lost on her. "And you went hunting in a monster system, so you're definitely tough, right? Not as much as me though."
"I … suppose?" You don't really know what to make of the question, or whether or not to feel offended by the implication that you aren't as powerful as she is. Actually, it's more surprising to you that she's capable of remembering your disaster of a speech.
But … she doesn't appear to hold any ill will towards you. Santa-ziti's predictions were entirely correct in that regard.
It's admittedly a bit disconcerting.
"We should fight some time. It'll be fun!"
"What if I don't want to?"
"Come on, we can get swole together!" Her wings flap vigorously, and your concern for both the safety of her boxes and passer-bys promptly skyrockets. "Good gains don't come to those who skip fights!"
"I have no idea what you mean."
"Oh, someone on the radio said it."
You sigh exasperatedly, even as you continue to follow after the spirited Antuhsas. The weight in your arms … the burden of helping her … it almost seems heavier than before. Is this really the caliber of class representative your peers elected?
However, if there is one thing you're certain of, at the very least -
"Anyway, what about smashing rocks or monsters? A contest would be fun!"
- Illuyanka is certainly an idiot.
~~~
[X] Theoxena
"This is not, ah, what I imagined when you spoke of fishing."
The current streams and ripples past your sunken legs, chilly water lapping constantly against exposed skin. You and Theoxena are standing in the shallows of a river, hunched over the calm water surface with heels firmly entrenched within the sand and soil to maintain balance. Above you, the day is on the cusp of transforming into dusk, and the weather - the very air around you - is becoming crisper and cooler as well. It's a novel and unfamiliar experience - one your upbringing has rarely been able to provide - and you cannot help but shudder every time a tiny little minnow darts past the sides of your bare feet, but as cold and ... slimy as it … you don't think the experience to be too bad.
No, you simply think it a little strange.
"Don't worry! It works, um, better than you think!" insists your companion, her gaze fixated on the water. She stands opposite to you, sleeves bunched up as she grips carefully onto her trident, its head partially submerged underneath the rippling surface. "But it's um, not really proper spearfishing though ..."
Even when accounting for your unfamiliarity with the fishing process, you are reasonably certain that proper spearfishing did not include somebody lowering the tip of their sword into a stream, cosmic energy flowing through the metal to release a gentle, etheric glow. But if Theoxena says that doing so would attract fish, you can trust her judgement on the matter. There isn't any reason to act otherwise, not when you have almost no practical experience.
"I just thought it would be more ... like that."
You gesture in the rough direction of a sight behind Theoxena. Further downstream - at least a dozen metres away - is a blue-haired student reclining against a camping chair, snoring away with a fishing rod in his hands. Yet he still has a line cast into the water, the float bobbing up and down as it waits for a fish to bite.
"Um, I don't have a rod," the emerald-haired girl says, craning her neck as she tries to look back. "And this way is more fun, I think? It's um, definitely a lot faster! There's not as much waiting."
"I suppose so." Although the water remains cold and there are moments where the touch of the riverbed against your feet feels ... disgusting, you think you would prefer it to sitting on the bank. You don't know if you have the patience for that. "But how exactly does my sword help?"
"Oh! So, um, in spearfishing, people use these things called flashers to attract fish." Your expression must have shown your ignorance, because Theoxena hurriedly continues her explanation. "They reflect light in the water and the um, fish are kind of, um, maybe hypnotised? So they come over."
You nod in newfound understanding. "Ah, then they assume the light reflecting off the flasher is ..." There's a short pause as you try and search for an example. "Reflecting off the scales of other fish, perhaps?"
"That's kind of it. So your glowy sword can, um, help like that, I think?" Theoxena looks sheepish. "I don't really know. It's um, a ... stab in the dark."
A thought spontaneously occurs to you, separate from absolutely any other possible reason. How would the two of you be cooking the fish?
The other girl awkwardly and hesitantly wiggles her trident. "... Because we're doing spearfishing and um, it's getting dark?"
"... I assumed that was your inspiration." You can't hold back the grumbling. You didn't want to recognise her terrible joke at all, but in this position, it's too difficult to turn away from her expectant gaze. Even so, just because you're acknowledging that you understand the thought processes behind her stupid pun, it doesn't mean you actually think they're amusing in any way whatsoever.
"... Um, did you like this one?"
"No."
"I'm sorry."
"Stop apologising!" is once again your response. In such a short time, it has become an unfortunate fixture of conversations with your far-too-apologetic roommate (friend). Why does she have to keep saying 'sorry' all the time? "Your terrible sense of humour isn't ... offensive, even if I don't know why you keep making bad jokes."
It bothers you; the uneasy tension that still remains between you and her.
"Sorr - but I think they're funny." Theoxena purses her lips. "But um, if you don't like them and want me to I can try and um, stop ..."
"Don't be ridiculous." Your voice rises a little. A part of you feels mildly irritated by the assumption that you would ... want to clamp down and restrict her habits like that. "I'm not here to throw cold water on your tendency for puns."
"..."
Oh no.
"S-stop staring at me like ... like that!" you snap, face flush. You're flustered, frantically looking around for escape, your chest tightening as abject embarrassment takes over. "It was ... I didn't ... that was entirely unintentional! It wasn't like I, ah, wanted to ..."
Theoxena's smile looks as if it wants to eat up her face.
"It's okay, Sieg!" she chirps, throwing you a thumbs-up. "I think it's good! But um, maybe a bit fishy -"
"D-don't patronise - don't, I didn't ... argh!"
She's already lost in a fit of giggles, trident forgotten, leaving you to stew in your ignominy and did you really unconsciously make such a bad pun? Ah, how utterly mortifying. You just want to drop yourself into the river and disappear before the shame burns your very face away. But that would only be even more farcical!
Aaaaah. There is no salvation from this, not a single soul able to save you from these accursed jokes. Nobody like the bespectacled newcomer who has appeared downstream, carrying a blanket in her hands for that sleeping fisherman.
So for want of any better option, you decide to simply stare down at the water, ignoring the heat in your cheeks as you continue to watch the shining tip of your blade. When will a fish arrive to put an end to your joke-induced misery?
Rather serendipitously, right now.
"Theoxena!" you cry, worries temporarily forgotten.
Propelling itself through the water is a massive specimen - one in possession of six eyes, a long, streamlined body and stiff, crescent fins. Lured in by the light, it has put itself in the perfect position for your companion to strike. But the immediate strike the two of you planned for does not materialise. Theoxena's trident comes far too late, missing entirely. And still caught up in her laughter and rushing to try fix her mistake, she trips -
"Aie!"
- And falls into the river with a large splash.
The fish takes the opportunity to ram your leg.
It's gross. The water. The fish's scales. Like sludge dredged from the bottom of a swamp it's entirely gross beyond measure and disgusting and it's sliding right past you at high speed -
"Use your magic!" Your blade slices down - trailing light through water - but to no avail. It's far too fast. "The fish is fleeing!"
Theoxena breaks free of the river with a wheeze, bubbles churning all around her.
"Jetstream Attack!" she shouts, thrusting her trident back into the surface.
It takes no longer than a moment. Once calm water ruptures, and the fish is exposed to air and sunlight, blasted upwards by that jet of pressurised water. Your instincts take over immediately, body moving in tune with your sword to skewer the target dead. Suspended right above the two of you. In mid-air, dripping wet.
You're silent. Theoxena is as well.
The dead fish squeaks as it slides further down the metal.
Downstream, the bespectacled girl quietly reels in a catch for her sleeping friend.
"We should have done this from the very beginning," you finally say, lowering both sword and fish.
"I don't um, think that would be good," Theoxena replies a little reservedly, stepping over to take a better look. "The um, fish gets stressed and there's more cortisol and … um, it's not good to eat."
"... Ah." None of that had occurred to you earlier. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologise!"
In the face of your flat look, Theoxena can't help but laugh once more, barely holding back her snorts. Her green cowlick is just as uncontrolled, swinging wildly around.
You just don't understand her sense of humour.
"Well it's, pmf, um … ha, it's my fault too," she says, struggling to control the laughter. "I, ha, should've um, hooked before I leapt."
You just don't understand at all.
"This is supposed to be spearfishing," you mumble, even as your shorter companion collapses into giggles again.
"S-sorry!"
A sigh leaves your lips as you slip the dead fish off the blade and into the bucket you two brought along. But for all the exasperation you feel right now …
"Let's just continue fishing."
… This little river expedition has its perks.
… Not that you will ever grow to tolerate her terrible wordplay in any way or anything. Simply because you find some enjoyment from spending time fishing with Theoxena does not mean you will ever let her off the hook for exposing you to her atrocious humour -
"Sieg? Why are you, ha, turning into a tomato? Sieg?!"
~~~
[X] Melissa
The restaurant is clean and well-lit, a cozy little establishment tucked into an alleyway not too far from the campus gates. Stone reliefs representing scenes from history and folklore line the walls, images of gods and heroes watching over the diners seated at their tables. The décor is admittedly eclectic, but the ambiance of it all suffuses the room with a warm and welcoming atmosphere. And although the restaurant is teeming with customers, its qualities - including the beautiful aroma that fills the air - are enough that you don't think you made a particularly bad decision in coming here for dinner.
Except, one tiny flaw remains.
Sitting directly opposite to you, Melissa serenely slurps soda up through her straw. Those golden eyes of hers flicker towards you, intensifying the uncomfortable silence that has fallen over your table. Never before have you felt a stronger urge to simply leave and find another seat, but thanks to some quirk of fate, or maybe a Divinity's terrible sense of humour, the chances of doing so … are almost zero.
Because the restaurant is at capacity, barely capable of handling the dinner time rush.
Because to your right, Chang is also present, glancing confusedly between you and Melissa, his very presence blocking your ability to just stand up and walk away.
For all intents and purposes, you're completely trapped.
"Hey, what kind of food did you order?" Melissa asks casually, ice tinkling as she puts her glass down on the wooden table.
The question catches you entirely off guard. "... Why do you want to know?"
"Just wanted to make some small talk," replies the freckled girl. "You were staring and not saying anything, so it was getting super awkward."
"I was not staring." you say almost instantly.
"You sure?"
"I am absolutely positive," you insist. "I was definitely not staring at you at all. There is no reason that I would. Whatever you think you saw is a mere consequence of us being forced to sit across from one another."
"Oh, uh ..." Melissa blinks, looking as if she wants to say something else, but instead she shrugs. "Okay, sure. Let's just go with that."
Her expression is mildly dubious, but you manage to hold yourself back from pressing the point. Engaging further with her misguided assumptions is a fool's errand. You know perfectly well that you did not want to stare at her.
"So …"
"... Curry with potatoes and pork cutlets," you answer reluctantly. If Melissa is so adamant about asking about your meal choices, then you really have no other choice.
She's not the only one to dislike this irritatingly awkward atmosphere.
"Oh, I haven't had that before." She sounds legitimately curious - and even more a rural girl than her accent suggests. "I wanted to try something totally new, so Chang said this place would supposedly expand my horizons."
"You're Sieghild, correct?" asks the said boy. It's the first time he has spoken since your arrival. "I don't think I've introduced myself. I'm Chang."
"Ah - yes." You cough into your hand. His sudden interjection is unexpected, but you quickly smooth over the brief surprise. "My name is Sieghild Scylding. A pleasure to meet you, Chang."
"In kind," he replies with a smile, brushing back his fringe. "How did you and Melissa meet?"
The other girl answers before you can. "We met all the way back at the station," she says, taking another sip of her soda.
A reminder that you neither wanted nor needed.
Thinking about the events of your disastrous first day is actively discomforting, in fact. It brings back memories of your unsightly behaviour and a near-death experience, and in this situation - her nosy and self-righteous (but not unwarranted) interference.
"I don't think first impressions were super great though," the brunette adds after a short pause, a rueful smile gracing her face.
This is why you didn't want to share a table with Melissa. Exposing yourself to the possibility of being castigated by her again - you just don't want to deal with it.
"People dislike it when strangers butt into their affairs." you shoot back, voice tetchy.
"Hey, it wasn't me who started things." Melissa's eyes are resolute. "I'm not going to let people jump off the handle whenever they want. Others totally don't like that too."
You shift in your seat, her gaze unexpectedly disquieting. You're painfully aware of the consequences of your own actions. And their effects on others. Yet even so -
Her judgement still irritates you. The sensation lurks right underneath your skin, like an itch that cannot be scratched.
"Nobody wants to listen to a lecture," you say quietly.
"I can see where she's coming from," Chang adds thoughtfully. His understanding comes as a surprise. "You did start dressing down those tourists earlier today."
Melissa looks as if she clearly didn't expect it either, but she remains undeterred. "They were chasing that stray … stubby cat-looking thing around," she says firmly, crossing her arms. "I can't just ignore that!"
"Longcats," he explains, nodding sagely. "They're actually a semi-reptilian species only distantly related to the common cat and solely native to this part of the galaxy."
"And they chased it into that old man's garden too. It was totally disrespectful."
"I know, you told them very loudly."
In spite of the somewhat downcast mood, you cannot help but snort. And then immediately snuff it out, suppressing the half-hearted laugh with a closed fist. It does not befit your station. Nor is anything of it funny to you whatsoever. Definitely not.
Unfortunately, you're not quick enough to avoid Melissa's notice.
"Was that a laugh?" she asks, glancing back in your direction.
"No." A second of noise cannot possibly be considered a laugh. You are certainly not lying.
The other girl purses her lips. But rather than make an argument to the contrary, something suddenly seems to dawn on her, comprehension alighting in her eyes.
However, you have no opportunity to find out what exactly that is. The arrival of food stymies any further questions. Not that you would have wanted to ask her anything. Instead, you gratefully take a plate from the peppy four-armed waitress and hand over a sizable tip, ignoring the expression Melissa gives you.
And with food acquired, the next few minutes pass in relative silence, with only your classmates' short and spurious bursts of chit-chat serving to interrupt your meal.
You don't particularly mind the lack of conversation. In fact, it appeals to you significantly more than talking to either Melissa or Chang.
Dining in silence ... is something that you have long grown accustomed to.
Melissa has not.
"Are you planning on joining a club?"
She speaks again right as you're about to start on the curry. Your spoon is already digging into the mound of rice, and yet the girl before you still wishes to make small talk. Does she really expect you to have the appetite for more chatter? When it's clear and obvious that all you want to do is finish your food?
Yet you can't bring yourself to eat. Even the scent of the curry on your plate - a strong, heady spice - is no longer rousing pangs of hunger from your stomach. As long as she's waiting for you to say something, there's only a sense of awkward discomfort, tangled up inside like a ball of yarn.
"I have yet to decide," you answer tersely, looking up from your plate. The issue of a club to join hasn't been a priority for you, even after that impromptu tour on the first day.
In the face of such bluntness, Melissa can only run an awkward hand through messy brown locks. Her expression seems almost exasperated, but more so a little lost.
"You're kind of hard to talk to."
Likely because you don't want to talk to her.
The seconds tick away.
Melissa clears her throat.
"How are things going with Theo?"
Your instinctive reaction is to ask why she even wants to know. Why does she care about that in the first place? The words die in your throat, hesitation gripping your chest. It … makes logical sense that she cares. Yet your mind is blanking - you don't want to not answer. You want to respond.
You can't avoid this one, and she seems to know it too.
Yet how can you give her an answer when even you don't really know how to say? Theoxena … considers you a friend and you … the feelings are very much mutual and everything so -
… It turns out to be easier than you thought.
"We're friends," you mutter, looking away.
Your spoon glides aimlessly about the curry. Your face grows hot.
But admitting it is just …
"Then I'll be rooting for you."
This time, Melissa's smile is gentle and full of cheer. She expresses it so easily, without any of the hesitation and anxiety you yourself possess.
Even so, does she really have to involve herself in every aspect of your life?
You quietly harumph, returning to your meal. The red of embarrassment still tinges your cheeks.
… You just don't know how to handle her.
~~~
[X] Evie
You find Evie lying on a bench right outside one of the greenhouses, back pressed to the cold metal surface, arms stretched out above her to hold a potted plant aloft. It dangles immediately above her face, its deep blue leaves and violet petals - almost the same shade as her soft hair - swaying against the cool afternoon breeze. In contrast, the girl is as still as a statue, with the slow rise and fall of her chest the sole evidence for her presence amongst the living. Her clouded crimson eyes are transfixed upon the flower, observing its gentle motions so intensely that you would think her unblinking.
Nevertheless, despite the snakeskin pattern on the scarf she wears, you are mostly sure that Evie is capable of blinking.
What you are absolutely not sure of, on the other hand, is whether or not even the Divinities can explain what exactly your classmate is doing with that plant, and why she seems so enraptured by it.
Simply watching her watch a flower, however, is no way to obtain a proper answer. In fact, it actually leaves you feeling a little awkward and even more uncertain. Standing a short distance away and gawking at her like some sort of … curious giraffe ... isn't doing much to enlighten you. There are definitely more effective methods.
Like asking her.
"Evie … where did you, ah, find that flower?"
"What?" Her attention snaps to you in an instant, eyes laser-focusing on your face. "Oh, this wee thing? Came from the greenhouse."
"Did one of the gardeners give it to you?" you ask as you approach the bench.
Evie makes room for you, pulling her knees to her chest and rolling herself up into a sitting position in one surprisingly smooth motion. It's an impressive sight, particularly given that her arms are still outstretched, hands tightly grasping the pot.
You idly wonder if she has ever done gymnastics.
"Saw it while walking by, and thought I might ask for it," she explains, handing it over when you sit down. It's a pretty thing in full bloom, so you think you can understand a little of why Evie was studying it so intently. "Didn't know it'd be so easy."
"I doubt they would greatly worry over a student receiving one," you muse, slowly turning the pot over in your hands. "Otherwise there would be no, ah, gardening club."
From what you recall of a short paragraph in the orientation materials, students of the gardening club would frequently help out in the greenhouses, growing and caring for plants that could be used in either experiments or the infirmary. For that reason, they were one of the more prominent of the numerous clubs on campus - enough that you could remember their existence off the top of your head (alongside the specialised workshops or certain special interest clubs such as skateboarding).
"Aye, that's fair." The lilac-haired girl holds out her hands, and you dutifully return to her the flowerpot.
But learning where she found it is only part of the story. You're still quite unsure why she's so preoccupied with it in the first place.
"So what are you planning to ... do with your new plant?"
"Eat it."
You barely have time to show your confusion before Evie abruptly plucks off a petal and palms it right into her waiting mouth.
She quietly chews away, unfazed by your bewildered gaze. Why would she just … eat a petal? You have been thrown completely off-balance. It's not at all proper for someone to randomly swallow pieces of plant life in this manner! But even as you scramble for something suitable to say, you're still at a loss for words.
In the end, you settle for the first thing to come to mind.
"... You, ah, realise it is … fungi season … right?"
At this time of year, Šapinuwa would see an uptick in numbers for a certain strain of fungal growth. It was a pest endemic to the temple city's gardens, where it would infect plant matter - both dead and living - in order to create for itself a doll-shaped body to puppet about. Only an hour earlier did you see one of them emerge from a bush, before it darted away on stubby, root-like legs to menace another of the many lawns on campus.
They could scarcely be described as a threat, but the thought of having unknowingly eaten an infected plant … your stomach churns. You try not to think about it. Not only does it sound demeaning … it's just disgusting.
Yet unlike you, Evie only has a serene smile.
"冗談, 冗談1." There's a small laugh behind her reassurances. She lowers her hand, revealing the petal hiding within her sleeve. It had never once been in her mouth. "It was only sleight-of-hand."
Everybody in this school has a terrible sense of humour. It's almost a certainty now.
"So what is its real purpose?" you ask with a sigh.
"Giving it to me roommate," the other girl explains, placing the pot down in her lap. "Should have a proper house-warming gift for her, you know? And she's a flower-loving lass."
"It would look quite beautiful on a window sill," you acknowledge.
"でしょ?2"
It's as good a reason as any, if a little more mundane than you expected. Yet as the conversation drifts away into an easy silence, you wonder if you should give Theoxena a present of your own. It would be … nice.
You quietly contemplate the scenery, while beside you Evie continues to bask in the flower's presence. The tranquility of it all is soothing, a welcome salve for the stresses of your first week as a student. Your first steps into the rough, unknown waters of a new life.
Whether you handled things well or not …
Idly, your gaze strays over to the lilac-haired girl.
All the problems you faced could have been worse. You don't know how. You can barely even begin to imagine what further strife could have befallen you. In all likelihood, the consequences of your personal failings could have been far greater.
But … you were able to avoid - mitigate - the worst of things. Maybe.
You breathe in. Even now, the memories of your shameful behaviour on that day continue to trouble you. They leave you exhausted and uncomfortable. It's hard to clamp on the dark mutterings at the back of your mind.
However, you push through. There's something you want to - no, need to say to Evie. It's been nagging at you, waiting for you to find the proper opportunity.
"... Thank you."
The words lurch free, mumbled and hesitant.
"Mm?"
Yet if Evie noticed the embarrassment … she thankfully doesn't comment.
"I, ah -" Your throat suddenly feels parched. "If you - if not for your help ... I don't know if I could have -"
Your halting, stumbling attempts reflect your untethered thoughts, scattered all about your mind like the aftermath of a whirlwind. The right words … the feelings you want to convey … they lie just out of reach, darting past your grasp as blood rushes to your head.
You breathe out, trying to calm the drumming of your heart.
"This isn't something I have ever been particularly good at," you finally manage to admit. "Without your sympathy … that little push ... I might not have tried to fix my mistakes. I might have made more. So … that's why - why I want to thank you. You had no reason to help, but -"
"Compassion's well enough for it."
Your classmate softly cuts you off, crimson eyes holding you in their gaze. "Hmm, but ... might be better to act less crabby in the future," she wryly adds.
"That … may be a difficult request," you mutter, looking down at your lap.
Your words hang alone in the silent air, their only companions the muffled activity of distant students. It bothers you how easily you can make a fool of yourself. It's not like you want to act so immaturely, but you're … scared - frightened that you might once again do something moronic.
And it's discouraging.
Evie silently watches you.
Then she reaches out and ruffles your hair.
You are completely unprepared for it.
"Why are you - What do you think you're doing?!"
You glare up at the other girl, heat creeping up your neck. She looks entirely too pleased with herself, patting your head like this! What in the Divinities' name is she thinking? Not that you think it's at all uncomfortable or anything of the sort and it's actually fairly nice but she has to ask before she just … ups and plays with your hair!
Simply because you find Evie to be good company does not mean she can treat you ... like a child. You have a reputation to maintain!
"Wanted to give this a fair try," says the lilac-haired menace to your dignity as if she currently isn't working to confound you. "Didn't work, huh?"
"Work? Whatever you have in mind, of course it isn't working!"
"... 仕方がない3." Much to your relief (and definitely not a tinge of disappointment), Evie glumly pulls away her hand. "Thought it'd help your petted lip."
"P-Pardon?"
"Scylding, there's nothing to be feart of," she says reassuringly. "It's only been 'bout a week, so you still have loads of time. Take it as it goes and it'll be all well."
Her enigmatic smile is an expression you find difficult to stay irritated with. You let out a long sigh. Once again, she's trying to nudge you along.
… You appreciate it.
"I ... suppose so," you admit, trying to inject a little positivity into your voice. "Tackling whatever lies ahead should be absolutely no problem for me."
You swallow down a burst of worry. The future is far from set in stone. You have no clue if you can even believe in your own words. Yet even so - you chose to attend the House of the Dawn in order to change yourself. For the freedom to carve a path that … you can be proud of.
Your first week … it's been rocky, uncertain. A terrible, shameful first impression. But in the grand scheme of everything, you still have the opportunity to change.
And one day, your flimsy dreams may possibly become reality.
---
Notes:
1. 冗談, 冗談 (joudan, joudan): just joking!
2. でしょ? (desho?): right?
3. 仕方がない (shikata ga nai): it can't be helped
Big Vote Time!
Now that Sieghild Scylding has begun to slowly integrate herself into the school rhythm (and sort of settled a few problems here and there), it's time for you to choose what clubs, student workshops and societies she'll be spending most of her time with throughout her student life. Some clubs she'll probably more time at than others, but all in all, it's good to participate in extracurriculars when you're young and not lamenting the lack of opportunities for self-enrichment.
Student Workshops (select one):
[] Engineering Club: By joining this club, Sieghild will hang out in the collaborative workspaces of the engineering halls, making use of her understanding of the natural sciences to work on projects with her fellow students. Very technology-oriented. Robots. Big on teamwork.
[] Alchemy Ateliers: Sieghild joins one of the many alchemical workshops on campus to further her understanding of how cosmic energy reacts with the physical universe, as well as other more esoteric things. This involves a lot of potion-making, a bit of enchanting, and a lot of craftwork. Also avoid getting sabotaged by rival workshops or having your secrets stolen. Tradition-minded people, alchemists.
Other Clubs and Societies (select two):
[] Archaeology Club
[] "Going Home" Club (Student Affairs)
[] Infirmary Volunteer
[] Gardening Club
[] Cooking Club
[] Write-in
Note: Special interest clubs tend require less participation from Sieghild and less responsibility.
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[X] Alchemy Ateliers: Sieghild joins one of the many alchemical workshops on campus to further her understanding of how cosmic energy reacts with the physical universe, as well as other more esoteric things. This involves a lot of potion-making, a bit of enchanting, and a lot of craftwork. Also avoid getting sabotaged by rival workshops or having your secrets stolen. Tradition-minded people, alchemists.
[X] Gardening Club
[X] Cooking Club
[X] Gardening Club
[X] Cooking Club
- Location
- Internet
[X] Alchemy Ateliers: Sieghild joins one of the many alchemical workshops on campus to further her understanding of how cosmic energy reacts with the physical universe, as well as other more esoteric things. This involves a lot of potion-making, a bit of enchanting, and a lot of craftwork. Also avoid getting sabotaged by rival workshops or having your secrets stolen. Tradition-minded people, alchemists.
[X] Archaeology Club
[X] Gardening Club
[X] Archaeology Club
[X] Gardening Club
- Location
- Inside my own head
- Pronouns
- They/Them
I really like the Theo scene.
Tentative vote:
[X] Engineering Club: By joining this club, Sieghild will hang out in the collaborative workspaces of the engineering halls, making use of her understanding of the natural sciences to work on projects with her fellow students. Very technology-oriented. Robots. Big on teamwork.
[X] "Going Home" Club (Student Affairs)
[X] Infirmary Volunteer
Also interested in Archaeology and also considered a write-in for something body training or fighting related. Cooking and Gardening are alright to pick up as hobbies but dunno about club. Also I'd only go for one of the two regardless.
Errr, not sure what this means? Clubs aren't much of a thing over here, is Student Affairs known for being somewhat of a filler club? I thought the "going home" thing was normally used to refer to not joining any clubs.
Tentative vote:
[X] Engineering Club: By joining this club, Sieghild will hang out in the collaborative workspaces of the engineering halls, making use of her understanding of the natural sciences to work on projects with her fellow students. Very technology-oriented. Robots. Big on teamwork.
[X] "Going Home" Club (Student Affairs)
[X] Infirmary Volunteer
Also interested in Archaeology and also considered a write-in for something body training or fighting related. Cooking and Gardening are alright to pick up as hobbies but dunno about club. Also I'd only go for one of the two regardless.
Crimson Flight
华裔机甲迷
- Location
- Victoria, Australia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
The "Going Home" club is the nickname for a club that gets involved a lot in helping students adjust with the differences between their home planets and the school.
- Location
- earth
[X] Engineering Club: By joining this club, Sieghild will hang out in the collaborative workspaces of the engineering halls, making use of her understanding of the natural sciences to work on projects with her fellow students. Very technology-oriented. Robots. Big on teamwork.
[X] Archaeology Club
[X] Debating Club
Because the idea of Ms. Prim and Proper Sieghild in a sweaty, unregulated fight club is vastly amusing to me. That and this is a school for combat, amongst other things. If you try and tell me a bunch of late teens getting educated in ways to fight won't result in a hush-hush area to fight in, I'd laugh in your face.
Edited vote.
[X] Archaeology Club
[X] Debating Club
Because the idea of Ms. Prim and Proper Sieghild in a sweaty, unregulated fight club is vastly amusing to me. That and this is a school for combat, amongst other things. If you try and tell me a bunch of late teens getting educated in ways to fight won't result in a hush-hush area to fight in, I'd laugh in your face.
Edited vote.
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Solarstream
It's all in the cards
- Location
- Zombie World
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Engineering Club: By joining this club, Sieghild will hang out in the collaborative workspaces of the engineering halls, making use of her understanding of the natural sciences to work on projects with her fellow students. Very technology-oriented. Robots. Big on teamwork.
[X] Archaeology Club
[X] Unsanctioned Fight Club
[X] Debating Club
[X] Archaeology Club
[X] Debating Club
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Crimson Flight
华裔机甲迷
- Location
- Victoria, Australia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I have to put a nix on Unsanctioned Fight Club @commando2341 @R2Walker , sorry. Sieg wouldn't know about any unsanctioned fight clubs.
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- Location
- America
[X] Alchemy Ateliers: Sieghild joins one of the many alchemical workshops on campus to further her understanding of how cosmic energy reacts with the physical universe, as well as other more esoteric things. This involves a lot of potion-making, a bit of enchanting, and a lot of craftwork. Also avoid getting sabotaged by rival workshops or having your secrets stolen. Tradition-minded people, alchemists.
[X] Archeology Club
[X] Infirmary Volunteer
[X] Archeology Club
[X] Infirmary Volunteer
pantherasapiens
you were always my best friend
- Location
- somewhere over your shoulder
Student Workshops (select one):
[] Engineering Club: By joining this club, Sieghild will hang out in the collaborative workspaces of the engineering halls, making use of her understanding of the natural sciences to work on projects with her fellow students. Very technology-oriented. Robots. Big on teamwork.
Ix-nay on the eamwork-tay! We must preserve our misanthropy!
[X] Alchemy Ateliers: Sieghild joins one of the many alchemical workshops on campus to further her understanding of how cosmic energy reacts with the physical universe, as well as other more esoteric things. This involves a lot of potion-making, a bit of enchanting, and a lot of craftwork. Also avoid getting sabotaged by rival workshops or having your secrets stolen. Tradition-minded people, alchemists.
Other Clubs and Societies (select two):
[X] Infirmary Volunteer
[X] Debating Club
I figure Sieghild needs somewhere to let out all the angry speeching...
[] Engineering Club: By joining this club, Sieghild will hang out in the collaborative workspaces of the engineering halls, making use of her understanding of the natural sciences to work on projects with her fellow students. Very technology-oriented. Robots. Big on teamwork.
Ix-nay on the eamwork-tay! We must preserve our misanthropy!
[X] Alchemy Ateliers: Sieghild joins one of the many alchemical workshops on campus to further her understanding of how cosmic energy reacts with the physical universe, as well as other more esoteric things. This involves a lot of potion-making, a bit of enchanting, and a lot of craftwork. Also avoid getting sabotaged by rival workshops or having your secrets stolen. Tradition-minded people, alchemists.
Other Clubs and Societies (select two):
[X] Infirmary Volunteer
[X] Debating Club
I figure Sieghild needs somewhere to let out all the angry speeching...
Tayta Malikai
200% Space Whale
- Location
- Australia
It's gonna take me a while to actually read through the quest, so I'm just gonna vote blind. 
[X] Engineering Club: By joining this club, Sieghild will hang out in the collaborative workspaces of the engineering halls, making use of her understanding of the natural sciences to work on projects with her fellow students. Very technology-oriented. Robots. Big on teamwork.
[X] "Going Home" Club (Student Affairs)
[X] Cooking Club
[X] Engineering Club: By joining this club, Sieghild will hang out in the collaborative workspaces of the engineering halls, making use of her understanding of the natural sciences to work on projects with her fellow students. Very technology-oriented. Robots. Big on teamwork.
[X] "Going Home" Club (Student Affairs)
[X] Cooking Club
EternalObserver
eYe Gaze baCk
- Location
- The Void
[X] Alchemy Ateliers: Sieghild joins one of the many alchemical workshops on campus to further her understanding of how cosmic energy reacts with the physical universe, as well as other more esoteric things. This involves a lot of potion-making, a bit of enchanting, and a lot of craftwork. Also avoid getting sabotaged by rival workshops or having your secrets stolen. Tradition-minded people, alchemists.
[X] Archaeology Club
[X] Gardening Club
[X] Archaeology Club
[X] Gardening Club
Crimson Flight
华裔机甲迷
- Location
- Victoria, Australia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[X] Alchemy Ateliers: Sieghild joins one of the many alchemical workshops on campus to further her understanding of how cosmic energy reacts with the physical universe, as well as other more esoteric things. This involves a lot of potion-making, a bit of enchanting, and a lot of craftwork. Also avoid getting sabotaged by rival workshops or having your secrets stolen. Tradition-minded people, alchemists.
[X] "Going Home" Club (Student Affairs)
[X] Infirmary Volunteer
[X] "Going Home" Club (Student Affairs)
[X] Infirmary Volunteer
Crimson Flight
华裔机甲迷
- Location
- Victoria, Australia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Also what are your general impressions of the characters Sieg's become acquainted with thus far?
- Location
- earth
Theoxena is Canadian. /s
I like them all, but don't really have time atm to expand on why in a long spiel. Got thesis deadline next Tuesday.
- Location
- Victoria, Australia
[x] Engineering Club: By joining this club, Sieghild will hang out in the collaborative workspaces of the engineering halls, making use of her understanding of the natural sciences to work on projects with her fellow students. Very technology-oriented. Robots. Big on teamwork.
[x] Archaeology Club
[x] "Going Home" Club (Student Affairs)
Time to make some friends, bucko.
[x] Archaeology Club
[x] "Going Home" Club (Student Affairs)
Time to make some friends, bucko.
Crimson Flight
华裔机甲迷
- Location
- Victoria, Australia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
alchemy: 7
engineering: 6
archaeology: 7
going home: 5
gardening: 4
infirmary: 4
debating: 3
cooking: 2
Alchemy, Archaeology and Going Home are the current choices thus far.
I'll close votes up at .
engineering: 6
archaeology: 7
going home: 5
gardening: 4
infirmary: 4
debating: 3
cooking: 2
Alchemy, Archaeology and Going Home are the current choices thus far.
I'll close votes up at .
- Location
- St. Petersburg
Missed the vote, oh well.
enjoyable interesting that it would otherwise be, even though she'd never admit to it.
Evie is a bit harder to articulate. Suffice it to say I would not be surprised if she ate that flower petal. She appears to always have a purpose to her actions, even though she obfuscates it just as often as she is being completely blunt about her motives. This behavior makes her seem wise beyond her age, and feel like she is a sort of mentor/elder sister figure (and trying to headpat us only makes it more blatant). And... a little mysterious too? I certainly wouldn't mind knowing how she honed her people-senses to that degree, given that most of our other acquaintances act a lot more in line with their age.
Theo is exactly the kind of a bumbling dork who would stumble across the carefully crafted lines of inter-personal defences Sieg employs, and Illuyanka just crashes the entire thing with no survivors as she runs through it without noticing. They are natural companion choices, and would likely make Sieg's life on campus a lot more
Evie is a bit harder to articulate. Suffice it to say I would not be surprised if she ate that flower petal. She appears to always have a purpose to her actions, even though she obfuscates it just as often as she is being completely blunt about her motives. This behavior makes her seem wise beyond her age, and feel like she is a sort of mentor/elder sister figure (and trying to headpat us only makes it more blatant). And... a little mysterious too? I certainly wouldn't mind knowing how she honed her people-senses to that degree, given that most of our other acquaintances act a lot more in line with their age.
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Extracurriculars: Big Clubs Energy
Crimson Flight
华裔机甲迷
- Location
- Victoria, Australia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
"... Why can't ... I ... get this ... thing ... working?!"
There's a soft, squeaky thump from the direction of the entertainment unit. Theoxena is crouched low underneath it, struggling to connect a media player up to Room 143's display screen as she has been for the last five odd minutes. Initially, you had paid her efforts little heed, instead reading up on the day's news while she fiddled away with a newly-acquired device on the opposite side the dormitory, but as her frustration grows, you cannot help but find yourself becoming worried.
"Can I be of any help?" you ask uneasily, rising from your chair. "If you lack familiarity with this kind of, ah, thing, I know how to -"
"It's not that!"
Her words are muffled. Your roommate audibly shifts beneath the furniture, though from where you currently stand only her polka-dot socks are visible.
"It's just that, um -" She hesitates, her tone becoming a little more subdued. "I'm, um, not used to these cables. They're ... different from what I have at home."
It's a problem you're somewhat familiar with as well. "Strange, legislation regarding common cable standards should have passed the Senate last year," you say thoughtfully.
"But there's still, um, five different ones here!" Theoxena's voice rises. "It's really hard to -"
A loud clatter.
"- Aie! Owww ouch ouch owww!"
"Theoxena?!"
"I'm, um, ouch ... okay! Just ... hit my head! It's ... ouch ... okay!"
Theoxena's reassurances are let down by the fact that she sounds like she's on the verge of tears, but fortunately, it doesn't seem as if she's too hurt. You breathe out a sigh of relief, the spike of worry fading away as her quiet groans subside into sniffling. But really, there was no good reason for the cables to be disconnected in the first place! Even if the dormitories wanted to leave more choice to the students, problems like these were certain to occur!
You move concernedly over towards the screen, stepping closer so that you see the other girl better. She's wincing, face scrunched up in pain as she gently rubs her head.
"Do you want to, ah, rest for a bit?" you ask, unsure of what else you can say. Even if Theoxena says she's fine, it's not like you can accept that entirely when it's very clear her bumping against the table hurt! It's only natural for you to be worried for her. "We can skip clubs day if you don't feel well ... it's no, ah, problem for me."
"I-I'm fine!" she insists, still holding onto her head. Her blue eyes, fixed to the mess of cables beside her, have a stubborn glint to them. "But, um, is it okay if you go ahead first? Sorry, but ... I want to, um, get this connected."
"Well ..."
"It's, um, okay!" Seeing your uncertainty, Theoxena tries to sound chirpier. "It might go down to the wire, but I think I can get this working!"
That one seems a stretch.
Her new terrible pun aside, you cannot find it in yourself to convince Theoxena out of continuing her difficult task. Not that you aren't still concerned about her head or anything like that, but she's resolute in her goal. You did plan on investigating the clubs with her (although you already had handed in a few expressions of interest earlier) today, but temporarily heading out on your lonesome ... should not be too big an issue.
"Very well," you concede with a small sigh. "However, please try to be a little more, ah, careful, okay Theoxena?"
Her face brightens. "I'll try! But don't, um, worry about me. Once this is done, we can explore together and watch the basketball highlights after!"
You don't particularly know where the last part came from, but you're fine with it.
You give her a smile as you head for the door.
"Then I shall see you later."
~~~
For the sake of club recruitment, classes on the last day of the first week ended sooner than usual. This allowed students more time to explore what extracurriculars were present on campus, and whether or not they would be interested in joining one. Most clubs and societies had booths set up to attract new members, although it was not necessary to register immediately at a club's booth. You yourself had sent in an expression of interest for a number of clubs earlier in the week, and in fact a number of them (mostly those focused on special interests or hobbies) actually recruited year-round. Only a few extracurriculars, such as the student workshops, closed recruitment early.
And it was one such workshop that would be your first stop for the day.
As ignorant as you are of many of alchemy's deeper workings, the study of more esoteric applications of cosmic energy has interested you since you were just a child. You remember sitting alone in the family library with dusty old tomes your sole company, marvelling at the supposed feats of alchemists across the ages. Potionmaking, enchantments, crafting magical tools ... the books didn't elaborate in too much detail, but it was impressive all the same - and your younger self had wondered if she would ever get a chance to receive the wisdom of alchemists. Even though alchemists had become far more open with their knowledge in the last two centuries, the field was still fiercely traditionalist in many ways, particularly when it came to their culture of secrecy.
So for the House of the Dawn to have so many alchemists on its grounds ... you cannot help but feel a little giddy. It's not that you want to jump for joy or anything, but to have the opportunity to learn from them ...
You step through the door of an atelier shaped like a wizard's hat, a small bell ringing as the door closes behind you. The strange architecture evokes the image of an old hermit's residence, and the slapdash arrangement of the "lobby" inside does little to contradict that impression. It stands out even amongst the other alchemy workshops on campus, recognisable only as a real atelier by its complete lack of windows (to prevent spying) and the slapdash wooden sign nailed to the front door (upon which someone scrawled "Shangarf School - KEEP OUT"; and in different ink beneath "unless u freshie plz come in").
"Oho? A newbie, here at my laborrrratory?"
You're immediately accosted. With barely any time to be shocked, a short girl appears right in front of you, eyes twinkling behind her large protective goggles. Her face is all grin, and you notice that her hat is the exact same design as the building. But none of that matters to you right now. Instead, you're full of panicked questions, like "who is this terrifyingly rude woman" and -
"Don't stand in my face!" you blurt out in a mix of annoyance and discomfort, rapidly stepping back to protect your personal space. "Did you not learn to respect boundaries?"
A sudden pang of regret hits you, but the girl is entirely unbothered.
"Sorry-sorry-sorry, got exciteddddd." She pops the last syllable, twirling away from you, labcoat swishing in the wind. "Big Telesio at your surface! Service."
"Baya, don't scare my students."
A familiar middle-aged man is standing behind "Big Telesio", his expression a tiny bit exasperated. You quickly reorient yourself, coughing gently into your fist. It would not do at all for you to act so disrespectfully in front of Iršaappa Ḥalluwa. At least not again. But in any case, even though he did say he was an alchemist, seeing your scruffy homeroom teacher here was still slightly unexpected.
"Ah, hello sir," you say, nodding to him in greeting. "What, ah, brings you here?"
"Hey Sieghild." He waves a hand in your direction. His other hand, rather than holding his signature mug of prune juice, is occupied by what looks to be a box of biscuits. "I was just giving some stuff to Baya here."
"It's a plan to attract newbies," adds the aforementioned girl in mock-whisper. "Everybody who joins our atelier gets a freeeeeeeee cookie."
"I feel like you're lumping me in that 'our' of yours," says your teacher.
The girl simply ignores his protest. "You worked with graaaaaamps once, so you're just as Shangarf-y too!"
"... I guess so."
It's rude of you, but you feel that your teacher is in fact quite a doormat.
"Anyway, were you somebody who sent the impression of interest?" the eccentric-seeming girl asks, her attention realighting upon you. "Expression."
"I did send one to you," you admit slowly. The Shangarf School's stated aim of improving health and physical ability through potions and enhancements had piqued your curiosity. Though you did not expect one of their members to be so ... excitable? "My name is, ah, Sieghild Scylding. It is a ... pleasure to meet you?"
"Oho, same-same-same." She clicks her fingers, and her very demeanour seems to shift into something more professional. "And what talents do you have to offer? What can you contribute to the Shangarf quest?"
Is she asking for an explanation of your abilities? It catches you a little off guard, but ... it would make sense. You glance over in Iršaappa Ḥalluwa's direction. He catches your eye, and nods almost imperceptibly.
"I have an affinity with ether that allows me to -"
"Etherrrrrrr?!"
You don't get to finish, because Baya's enthusiasm immediately skyrockets.
"That's great!" she babbles, words leaving her mouth a mile a minute. "Nyahahaha, I've always wanted to work with the ether! They used to say centuries back that having an ether affinity is like touching the domaaaaain of the gods. You're incredibly-incredibly-incredibly lucky."
"Ah?"
You know that your abilities are far from common, but ...
"All alchemists search out the universal truth! If we have you in out - our experrrriments, then yessssss ..."
She suddenly turns around and grabs Iršaappa Ḥalluwa by the collar, much to your surprise.
"Teaaaaach, why didn't you tell me one of your students had an etherrr affinity?"
"That would be violation of student privacy -"
"Teaaaach, this is amaziiiiiiing." She shakes him, and as awkward as your teacher's expression is - he looks used to such treatment. "There's papers I always wanted to try out, let's gooooo."
"I was only stopping by to give you cookies ..."
"Sieghild Scylding!" she shouts, hunger in her eyes. Your teacher is forgotten as she faces you again. You feel like a prey animal - or some piece of meat - lying right in front of a wolf. "Join us, and together we shall make the other ateliers rrrrrrue the day they thought to defeat us in the Alchemy Duels. We need to start the success. Process. To the basementtttt!"
"Actually, I'll have to stop you right there."
Iršaappa Ḥalluwa casually manoeuvres himself around the enthusiastic girl, gently pushing you by the shoulders towards the door. You're still dumbstruck by the sheer energy on display to protest or comment. Did she really just work herself up into such a fever? What is going on? You're flabbergasted, clueless. So much is happening.
"Teach don't steal her awaaaaaay, Big Telesio needs to -"
"Sorry Baya," he says apologetically, even as he gets you into the doorway. "I can't let you take up her entire day like this. She needs to see more clubs ... right?"
"Ah." You find your voice just as you step out. "Ah, yes. Yes I do."
"Iršaappa! Curse youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu -"
The bell tinkles. The door shuts close.
The two of you silently stand there under the afternoon sun.
"So Sieghild," your teacher begins awkwardly, "do you want a cookie?"
He lifts out a box labelled 'Xvoir' and hands it over. Inside are actually multiple cookies. Macadamia-flavoured. You silently accept it.
"... She was ..." You trail off, trying to think of a description that would not be too rude. Especially when Iršaappa Ḥalluwa seems to be friendly with that girl. "She was ... enthusiastic."
"Oh yeah, both her and her grandpa get obsessed sometimes." Your teacher scratches his chin. "But they're clever biscuits - is that how you use the idiom?"
"Smart cookies."
"Thanks." He smiles sheepishly, clapping his hands together. "I knew I was getting that one wrong somehow."
"Then is, ah, everyone in the Shangarf School so ..."
Your teacher shakes his head. "The other kids here aren't so energetic," he explains. "Just Baya. But all alchemists have to love their work. She just shows it a bit more loudly than others. It's not really too bad."
"I ... see."
Seeing your doubtful look, Iršaappa Ḥalluwa hurriedly continues. "The enthusiasm is part and parcel - I'm using it right this time - of the alchemist lifestyle," he says reassuringly. "Don't let that discourage you too much. You'll have fun if you join up with these kids, I promise. They're a talented group."
The sudden attempt to drag you into some ... experiment of sorts ... wasn't something you expected. Especially so quickly after stepping foot into the atelier. But, even when faced with the sheer ... energy of Baya Telesio, you can't really say that it was ... too bad an experience. It's not like you appreciate being praised for your abilities but knowing that you can contribute to some alchemical procedures ... it interests you. Can the powers you possess really be that useful in alchemy?
And though you have no clue on how to handle that girl's excited ramblings ... you don't really hate it.
If she can lower the level of her enthusiasm, then ...
"I suppose so," you admit, glancing at your teacher. As much of a doormat as he seems, if Iršaappa Ḥalluwa is willing to testify in favour of the Shangarf School's competence, then it probably can't be helped. "Then should I go back in and ... participate in her, ah, experiment?"
As sudden as it was, the prospect has left you rather curious.
"Maybe do it later if you want," he answers. "Alchemy takes a while, so maybe go find some other clubs first."
Unexpectedly, Iršaappa Ḥalluwa pats your shoulder supportively.
"Have some fun, Sieghild," the man adds, before he starts to stroll off. "She'll be here all day, so rock up when you can."
~~~
If you had actually taken your teacher's advice to heart, you don't really think you are showing it too well. Strolling through the hallways of the main building to find "Student Affairs" - or, as someone you asked for directions called it, the "Going Home Club" - would likely not be considered "fun" by many, but you have no interest whatsoever in what others think of your club choices. None at all. You want to know what exactly the role of "Student Affairs" is in the greater scheme of things, especially when their stated aim was something along the lines of "helping bridge cultural and planetary differences". Their goal is obvious to you, but what activities they actually do ... that is a question that you want answered.
Their room is a smaller one directly opposite to a second year classroom. A few students are loitering outside, but otherwise there is very little activity to be seen. Which is probably to be expected. You doubt the number of people interested in "Student Affairs" would be particularly high.
You knock on the door.
There's a short silence, then:
"Yeah, get in."
What greets you as you enter is a long, rectangular table, the seats arranged around it mostly empty. The exception is the student at the very far end, his legs rudely resting up on the desk. You instantly notice his ears - they extend upwards from the sides of his head, and bring to mind a fox. And held in his scowling mouth is a small book, sitting between his teeth as if it's perfectly natural. His gaze is sharp and unrelenting, adding further to the harsh aura he exudes.
Under your questioning stare, the boy spits out his book, a long, prehensile tongue grabbing it mid-air and placing it down on his lap.
"Whaddya want?" he growls, as his tongue snaps back. "Name's Sera. Chief of Student Affairs. You joinin' this crew?"
"That is correct," you say. You definitely did not expect this individual to be the leader of Student Affairs, but you don't let it show on your face. "I am Sieghild Scylding. A pleasure."
His response is a gruff one. "Yeah, nice to meetcha."
Then his tongue lashes out again to drop the book back into his mouth.
Once again, silence.
You shift where you stand. The air around you has started to feel ... very awkward. Are you supposed to say something in this situation? Do you comment on whatever his ... book-sucking habits are? Is it even hygienic for him to do such a thing? The fox-eared boy's off-putting manner is more than a little strange and disconcerting, enough to leave you at somewhat of a loss for words.
But finally, and much to your relief, Sera speaks.
"You want a job now or what?" he says after removing the book again.
A part of you wonders if eccentricity is widespread amongst club leaders, but you do your best to be charitable. A sample size of two is no basis for such an assumption.
"Not ... exactly?" you reply, hesitating briefly as you settle on the words. "I simply ... want to know what exactly are the, ah, activities involved with Student Affairs."
Surprisingly, the fox-eared boy's eyes light up upon hearing your question. You have a sneaking suspicion that very few others have been interested enough in the actual doings of a club with a demeaning nickname, though another possibility could have simply been that Sera ... does not possess a welcoming appearance.
"Real important stuff." There's a hint of satisfaction in how he answers. "Problems of all stripes. All colours. When this school's diverse lot needs somethin', we give 'em that. Homeworld info, care packages, cultural shit, that's our turf. Nobody's gonna fuck up cultural and social norm shit when we're on the job."
Even though it's a service you're ... not at all used to, you can see the necessity in a school as multicultural as the House of the Dawn. But at the same time, from Sera's limited description you get the sense that a lot of their duties seem to be ... gruntwork and general administrative duties that you would think more suited for institutions more closely hewed into the academy's fabric.
And their name as well ... "Bridging 'cultural and planetary differences' seems quite narrow a scope for Student Affairs," you observe.
Sera crosses his arms, leaning further back into his seat. He reminds you more of a delinquent than a club leader. "There's thousands of fuckin' worlds of shit we gotta handle," he points out. "Can't 'scape that. When we're reppin' student interests, that's what's involved. Keepin' the masses in harmony is the job, even when the Council just wants some warm bodies to make sure shit's sweet sailin'."
"Did you call?"
You start, turning around to face the speaker. Somehow, you completely failed to notice someone enter.
Nonchalantly leaning against the doorframe is a girl with dusty brown hair, a box of strawberry milk in one hand. The other fiddles with the ends of her hoodie string. Her eyes - steely green, sitting beneath well-defined brows - immediately catch your attention. They have a firm strength to them, one that contrasts greatly with the untidy locks that frame her sharp features.
"Need somethin', Tarxnai?" asks Sera, fixing the girl with a stern stare.
"Don't worry, you're not getting press-ganged today," she answers easily, her eyes scanning the room. "I'm on break so I thought I'd check in. Where's everybody gone?"
"On break. Doin' actual fun shit." Sera nods towards you. "And intro yourself. Don't be rude to my new crew."
"Oh, you actually grabbed somebody?"
The girl's eyes meet yours, and her lips curl up into a confident smile - almost a smirk.
"Sethra Tarxnai. Student Council." She looks you up and down. "So you're joining the Going Home Club."
You attempt to hide your surprise. "Ah ... yes. A pleasure to meet you."
There's an aloof air to her, supported by her rough and tumble manner of speech. But at the same time, she carries herself with a sense of authority that makes it easier to believe that she's actually a member of the mysterious Student Council you have heard a little of.
"We bail the Council out when they got needs," adds the Chief of Student Affairs from behind you. "So if you don't have a job for us, Tarxnai, get outta 'ere! Spend the break with your girl."
Sethra shrugs. "Dazza's looking for free merchandise right now. You have anything tempting?"
"Who'dya think we are?" Sera clicks his long tongue in annoyance. "Hit up the cooks for samples instead. We got nothing."
"Heh, shouldn't be surprised. But sorry, we already checked out the kitchens."
The fox-eared boy makes a sound that could be described as a hybrid between a snort and a yip.
Briefly, you wonder what bond these two actually share.
The rest of your thoughts, however, are focused on another matter.
"If it is, ah, food that you want," you speak up hesitantly, "then would you like a cookie?"
From your pocket, you pull out the box of cookies that your teacher had given you earlier. There's a quiet voice at the back of your mind that wonders if it is rude to give something that you were originally gifted by another, but you are reasonably sure that its concerns don't apply here. Iršaappa Ḥalluwa had provided you with the box of "Xvoir" cookies on a whim, and it could essentially be compared to any other form of free merchandise that clubs were handing out on this day. Simply ... handing over a cookie from your box of eight is nothing like regifting, and it wasn't like you were disrespecting your teacher's ... magnanimity? You just think that it would be ... nice ... to do a little good.
Sethra does not expect your act of generosity.
"You sure?" she asks curiously. "I'll take two."
You have no objections. It's not like you really have a strong attachment to macadamia cookies, and you suppose she might have someone else to give them to.
"Take as many as you wish."
"Thanks." The other girl plucks two free of the proffered box, then casually salutes both you and Sera with her strawberry milk. "Then I'll see you around."
With that curt farewell, she exits back through the door, strolling down the hallway to a destination unknown. Or maybe to find another club that would be willing to give out merchandise. From your relatively short examination of club booths, the allure of free goods appeared to be a common method of attracting new recruits. Though whether or not a Student Council member would have the time to participate ... you have no clue.
"She's Ouardiaei girl's problem now," mutters Sera, brushing back a few stray strands that had fallen over his eyes. "But get to know 'em, Scylding. We'll be workin' together 'til their term ends."
You have no clue who Sera is referring to either.
In any case, you decide to change the subject.
"Is there anything else, ah, relevant to our duties?" you ask. "That you wish to explain. Or is there any work that needs to be ..."
You hope that there isn't. There are still places you want to explore, not to mention finding Theoxena again at some point before clubs day ends.
"Nah."
You stare him down quizzically. The fox-eared boy sighs grumpily, tongue letting go of the book he was about to place once more in his mouth.
You really don't know if you can get used to that behaviour of his.
"Look, we got no work in today," he explains, scratching the side of his head. "And I gave you the gist of our shit. Hit me up on the weekend if you wanna do some good. Otherwise, get outta 'ere. I got others to recruit."
Given the activity around the clubroom, you doubt it.
But you acquiesce anyway. There's still one more club you want to visit.
~~~
"Oi girlie, keen on the Archaeology Club?"
The student manning the booth outside the library is a complete stranger to you. His appearance is distinct, one that you likely would not have forgotten had you ever previously met. The House of the Dawn may have a significant number of unique-looking individuals, but none of them are this tan and muscled young man wearing a brown singlet and orange cargo pants. But his aversion to the uniform isn't his defining quality: that is instead the jagged stripes of seaweed green and aqua that lance through his short, spiky hair.
You can't help but stare. Strange and eccentric hairstyles are nothing new to you, but his looks as if his head had been struck by lightning. You think you can understand the thought process behind it, but rather than something dynamic and shocking ... it looks more like a horrible dye job. There's no stylishness present. It's just ... tacky.
Too tacky.
"Hair's a cracker, ay?" he asks, magenta eyes sparkling. He noticed your gaze. "Bro down at the dairy got me it for cheap."
It takes significant effort to keep yourself from telling him that his 'bro' got him an absolutely terrible deal.
"... Yes - it's, ah, nice," you offer politely, plastering a shallow smile up as best as you can. "My name is Sieghild Scylding."
His face brightens. "Oh, you the girlie Neil was on about? Aw, he'll be stoked to know you're joining."
Stoked?
"... Pardon?"
Seeing your befuddled expression, the young man continues. "Yeah, prettyboy said him and Rani wanted to recruit two funny birds who have heaps of love for history, and lookie here, you're out in full force. But is your mate not keen anymore? That's a bugger."
"No ... ah, she's ... coming later."
Where did the glowing recommendation come from? Not that you don't appreciate Neil painting you in a rather positive light for his fellow club members or anything, but was the impression you made that ... flattering? You don't even remember talking to Rani either. Most of what you recall is the ... embarrassment and anxiety of that day. It's just surprising that you were even a topic of conversation and more than a bit (you try and not let the heat in your cheeks show) embarrassing.
"Aw shame, then I'll give just you the explanation," says the boy with abominable hair.
"Don't go around stealing my job, Mick," cuts in an approaching voice.
The tanned boy, who you finally have a name for, grins at the sight of a student exiting the library. "Ay boss, you're finally here. Having a trouser day?"
"Ye, woke up this morning and it felt right," the newcomer says as they pull up a seat next to Mick. "But it's been a while, so I decided to wear something on the ... flashy side."
In your opinion, the flared ends of their trousers (and the lace) are probably less flashy than Mick's disastrous dye job. But even discounting that, the fedora sitting atop the ostensible Archaeology Club leader's head is just as memorable to you. It's a well-made hat, but at the same time, it looks rather worn and battered.
"Looks choice, boss."
"I know right?" Their soft, orange gaze shifts towards you. "Oh, sorry about interrupting. I'm Dominique, Class 3-A. I'm in charge of this here Archaeology Club."
"Sieghild Scylding." You pause for a moment. "... Though I believe you, ah, already know who I am."
"That I do." Dominique's lips quirk up. "I hope Neil didn't tell you too much, else this spiel of mine's going to waste."
"You'd have been packing a sad if you were any later," Mick points out. "Was about to steal it from ya."
Dominique huffs. "I was busy, alright? I had to convince Widrafs to make some ..."
They flick their ponytail dramatically, before reaching into a jacket pocket to produce -
"Dan dan dan daa! Club relevant plush merchandise! We'll hold a raffle for it."
"Boss, that's sweet as."
You unconsciously find yourself recoiling. It's a large, plush tarantula wearing a fedora. With the exact same design as the one on Dominique's hat. The club leader looks eminently satisfied with this ... disgusting arthropod facsimile, which ... if you didn't somehow hear it incorrectly ... was produced by your Society and Culture teacher of all people?
"So anyway, that aside -" Dominique returns their attention to you. "Let me give you the details, Sieghild. Aniša's a planet with an incredibly long history, so it's seen its fair share of civilisations rise and fall. And the ruins built by those nations and peoples? They can be found all over the world and contain all sorts of history. And our club exists to search them out, to make sure that the deeds and experiences of the past aren't just left to fade away - or to become nests for monsters."
They place the plush down on the booth's table, and steeple their fingers together.
"It might seem a weird job for students, but we liaise with archaeological teams and the House of the Dawn's own archivists when working on ruins. Some of us help digs, like Mick here, or work on the archives, and if it turns out to be a monster system, a number of us gather up to clear things out so work can continue. You get notified by joining our club groupchat - and if you do want to participate in a dungeon expedition, just respond and we'll put you down in a team. But we don't judge if you don't. And you can bring friends if they want some extra monster-hunting practice."
They take a sharp breath.
"Whew, that's a mouthful." A cough. "But that's not just it. You'll have a good time here, not only if you like history or fighting monsters, but if you just think fun magic artefacts are neat. They're rare, sorry, but sometimes you get some like our club relevant plush merchandise!"
The tarantula gets lifted up again.
"True story," Dominique continues, "we found a weird Kanesh-era children's toy in the ruins of an old housing complex, and Widrafs reverse-engineered to make this cute thing. Inject some cosmic energy, and it can do ... this!"
Eight legs start dancing.
It takes all of your willpower not to scream in shock. What is this ... bizarre contraption? It reminds you of Theoxena's skeletal plush seal except more despicable. It's not like you would be frightened by a mere toy version of a spider or anything, even though they're absolutely disgusting creatures that drop in on you when you least expect it, but ... what child would find this sort of toy in any way amusing? It stares at you with so many beady eyes from under that stupid fedora and it's dancing ... you don't understand why anyone would want it!
Outwardly, your face is composed. You refuse to show any fear. Not that you were scared. That would be ridiculous.
It's a good enough mask that Dominqiue shows no sign of noticing. And much to your relief, they bring an end to the spider's motion the moment they start speaking again.
"So our mandate includes helping digs, archival work, and monster hunting. Not that different from some jobs full-fledged Cosmodrivers do."
"You must have ... ah, many chances to network," you say, your heartbeat finally beginning to slow.
"It's useful getting to know people." They smile. "You can ask Neil about it, he's very into that kind of thing. But speaking of - Mick, have you seen him around?"
Mick narrows his eyes in thought. "Think the fulla went hunting again. Rani said she saw him at the Foreign Film Club earlier?"
"Oh no." Dominique's expression becomes resigned. "Let's hope he's just helping them with something, else ..."
They blink. Something has occurred to them.
"Sieghild, if you're free, do you want to find Neil for us?" they ask. "If it isn't big ask, we just want to make sure he's all fine."
What do you do?
[] Agree to help the Archaeology Club hunt down Neil. You don't know why they're worried about him, but it shouldn't take too much time out of your day to find where he's gone and what he's doing. If you are going to spend more time with them, there should be no problem with doing them a favour.
[] Politely reject. You don't know how long this will take, and you feel like returning to the Shangarf School's atelier to see what kind of experiment Baya Telesio wants to perform. As overwhelming as she was earlier, you aren't entirely opposed to doing things with her. And an alchemical experiment ... you're definitely curious about that.
[] Politely reject. You want to find Theoxena first, although you're not sure if she's been successful with the entire display screen situation.
There's a soft, squeaky thump from the direction of the entertainment unit. Theoxena is crouched low underneath it, struggling to connect a media player up to Room 143's display screen as she has been for the last five odd minutes. Initially, you had paid her efforts little heed, instead reading up on the day's news while she fiddled away with a newly-acquired device on the opposite side the dormitory, but as her frustration grows, you cannot help but find yourself becoming worried.
"Can I be of any help?" you ask uneasily, rising from your chair. "If you lack familiarity with this kind of, ah, thing, I know how to -"
"It's not that!"
Her words are muffled. Your roommate audibly shifts beneath the furniture, though from where you currently stand only her polka-dot socks are visible.
"It's just that, um -" She hesitates, her tone becoming a little more subdued. "I'm, um, not used to these cables. They're ... different from what I have at home."
It's a problem you're somewhat familiar with as well. "Strange, legislation regarding common cable standards should have passed the Senate last year," you say thoughtfully.
"But there's still, um, five different ones here!" Theoxena's voice rises. "It's really hard to -"
A loud clatter.
"- Aie! Owww ouch ouch owww!"
"Theoxena?!"
"I'm, um, ouch ... okay! Just ... hit my head! It's ... ouch ... okay!"
Theoxena's reassurances are let down by the fact that she sounds like she's on the verge of tears, but fortunately, it doesn't seem as if she's too hurt. You breathe out a sigh of relief, the spike of worry fading away as her quiet groans subside into sniffling. But really, there was no good reason for the cables to be disconnected in the first place! Even if the dormitories wanted to leave more choice to the students, problems like these were certain to occur!
You move concernedly over towards the screen, stepping closer so that you see the other girl better. She's wincing, face scrunched up in pain as she gently rubs her head.
"Do you want to, ah, rest for a bit?" you ask, unsure of what else you can say. Even if Theoxena says she's fine, it's not like you can accept that entirely when it's very clear her bumping against the table hurt! It's only natural for you to be worried for her. "We can skip clubs day if you don't feel well ... it's no, ah, problem for me."
"I-I'm fine!" she insists, still holding onto her head. Her blue eyes, fixed to the mess of cables beside her, have a stubborn glint to them. "But, um, is it okay if you go ahead first? Sorry, but ... I want to, um, get this connected."
"Well ..."
"It's, um, okay!" Seeing your uncertainty, Theoxena tries to sound chirpier. "It might go down to the wire, but I think I can get this working!"
That one seems a stretch.
Her new terrible pun aside, you cannot find it in yourself to convince Theoxena out of continuing her difficult task. Not that you aren't still concerned about her head or anything like that, but she's resolute in her goal. You did plan on investigating the clubs with her (although you already had handed in a few expressions of interest earlier) today, but temporarily heading out on your lonesome ... should not be too big an issue.
"Very well," you concede with a small sigh. "However, please try to be a little more, ah, careful, okay Theoxena?"
Her face brightens. "I'll try! But don't, um, worry about me. Once this is done, we can explore together and watch the basketball highlights after!"
You don't particularly know where the last part came from, but you're fine with it.
You give her a smile as you head for the door.
"Then I shall see you later."
~~~
For the sake of club recruitment, classes on the last day of the first week ended sooner than usual. This allowed students more time to explore what extracurriculars were present on campus, and whether or not they would be interested in joining one. Most clubs and societies had booths set up to attract new members, although it was not necessary to register immediately at a club's booth. You yourself had sent in an expression of interest for a number of clubs earlier in the week, and in fact a number of them (mostly those focused on special interests or hobbies) actually recruited year-round. Only a few extracurriculars, such as the student workshops, closed recruitment early.
And it was one such workshop that would be your first stop for the day.
As ignorant as you are of many of alchemy's deeper workings, the study of more esoteric applications of cosmic energy has interested you since you were just a child. You remember sitting alone in the family library with dusty old tomes your sole company, marvelling at the supposed feats of alchemists across the ages. Potionmaking, enchantments, crafting magical tools ... the books didn't elaborate in too much detail, but it was impressive all the same - and your younger self had wondered if she would ever get a chance to receive the wisdom of alchemists. Even though alchemists had become far more open with their knowledge in the last two centuries, the field was still fiercely traditionalist in many ways, particularly when it came to their culture of secrecy.
So for the House of the Dawn to have so many alchemists on its grounds ... you cannot help but feel a little giddy. It's not that you want to jump for joy or anything, but to have the opportunity to learn from them ...
You step through the door of an atelier shaped like a wizard's hat, a small bell ringing as the door closes behind you. The strange architecture evokes the image of an old hermit's residence, and the slapdash arrangement of the "lobby" inside does little to contradict that impression. It stands out even amongst the other alchemy workshops on campus, recognisable only as a real atelier by its complete lack of windows (to prevent spying) and the slapdash wooden sign nailed to the front door (upon which someone scrawled "Shangarf School - KEEP OUT"; and in different ink beneath "unless u freshie plz come in").
"Oho? A newbie, here at my laborrrratory?"
You're immediately accosted. With barely any time to be shocked, a short girl appears right in front of you, eyes twinkling behind her large protective goggles. Her face is all grin, and you notice that her hat is the exact same design as the building. But none of that matters to you right now. Instead, you're full of panicked questions, like "who is this terrifyingly rude woman" and -
"Don't stand in my face!" you blurt out in a mix of annoyance and discomfort, rapidly stepping back to protect your personal space. "Did you not learn to respect boundaries?"
A sudden pang of regret hits you, but the girl is entirely unbothered.
"Sorry-sorry-sorry, got exciteddddd." She pops the last syllable, twirling away from you, labcoat swishing in the wind. "Big Telesio at your surface! Service."
"Baya, don't scare my students."
A familiar middle-aged man is standing behind "Big Telesio", his expression a tiny bit exasperated. You quickly reorient yourself, coughing gently into your fist. It would not do at all for you to act so disrespectfully in front of Iršaappa Ḥalluwa. At least not again. But in any case, even though he did say he was an alchemist, seeing your scruffy homeroom teacher here was still slightly unexpected.
"Ah, hello sir," you say, nodding to him in greeting. "What, ah, brings you here?"
"Hey Sieghild." He waves a hand in your direction. His other hand, rather than holding his signature mug of prune juice, is occupied by what looks to be a box of biscuits. "I was just giving some stuff to Baya here."
"It's a plan to attract newbies," adds the aforementioned girl in mock-whisper. "Everybody who joins our atelier gets a freeeeeeeee cookie."
"I feel like you're lumping me in that 'our' of yours," says your teacher.
The girl simply ignores his protest. "You worked with graaaaaamps once, so you're just as Shangarf-y too!"
"... I guess so."
It's rude of you, but you feel that your teacher is in fact quite a doormat.
"Anyway, were you somebody who sent the impression of interest?" the eccentric-seeming girl asks, her attention realighting upon you. "Expression."
"I did send one to you," you admit slowly. The Shangarf School's stated aim of improving health and physical ability through potions and enhancements had piqued your curiosity. Though you did not expect one of their members to be so ... excitable? "My name is, ah, Sieghild Scylding. It is a ... pleasure to meet you?"
"Oho, same-same-same." She clicks her fingers, and her very demeanour seems to shift into something more professional. "And what talents do you have to offer? What can you contribute to the Shangarf quest?"
Is she asking for an explanation of your abilities? It catches you a little off guard, but ... it would make sense. You glance over in Iršaappa Ḥalluwa's direction. He catches your eye, and nods almost imperceptibly.
"I have an affinity with ether that allows me to -"
"Etherrrrrrr?!"
You don't get to finish, because Baya's enthusiasm immediately skyrockets.
"That's great!" she babbles, words leaving her mouth a mile a minute. "Nyahahaha, I've always wanted to work with the ether! They used to say centuries back that having an ether affinity is like touching the domaaaaain of the gods. You're incredibly-incredibly-incredibly lucky."
"Ah?"
You know that your abilities are far from common, but ...
"All alchemists search out the universal truth! If we have you in out - our experrrriments, then yessssss ..."
She suddenly turns around and grabs Iršaappa Ḥalluwa by the collar, much to your surprise.
"Teaaaaach, why didn't you tell me one of your students had an etherrr affinity?"
"That would be violation of student privacy -"
"Teaaaach, this is amaziiiiiiing." She shakes him, and as awkward as your teacher's expression is - he looks used to such treatment. "There's papers I always wanted to try out, let's gooooo."
"I was only stopping by to give you cookies ..."
"Sieghild Scylding!" she shouts, hunger in her eyes. Your teacher is forgotten as she faces you again. You feel like a prey animal - or some piece of meat - lying right in front of a wolf. "Join us, and together we shall make the other ateliers rrrrrrue the day they thought to defeat us in the Alchemy Duels. We need to start the success. Process. To the basementtttt!"
"Actually, I'll have to stop you right there."
Iršaappa Ḥalluwa casually manoeuvres himself around the enthusiastic girl, gently pushing you by the shoulders towards the door. You're still dumbstruck by the sheer energy on display to protest or comment. Did she really just work herself up into such a fever? What is going on? You're flabbergasted, clueless. So much is happening.
"Teach don't steal her awaaaaaay, Big Telesio needs to -"
"Sorry Baya," he says apologetically, even as he gets you into the doorway. "I can't let you take up her entire day like this. She needs to see more clubs ... right?"
"Ah." You find your voice just as you step out. "Ah, yes. Yes I do."
"Iršaappa! Curse youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu -"
The bell tinkles. The door shuts close.
The two of you silently stand there under the afternoon sun.
"So Sieghild," your teacher begins awkwardly, "do you want a cookie?"
He lifts out a box labelled 'Xvoir' and hands it over. Inside are actually multiple cookies. Macadamia-flavoured. You silently accept it.
"... She was ..." You trail off, trying to think of a description that would not be too rude. Especially when Iršaappa Ḥalluwa seems to be friendly with that girl. "She was ... enthusiastic."
"Oh yeah, both her and her grandpa get obsessed sometimes." Your teacher scratches his chin. "But they're clever biscuits - is that how you use the idiom?"
"Smart cookies."
"Thanks." He smiles sheepishly, clapping his hands together. "I knew I was getting that one wrong somehow."
"Then is, ah, everyone in the Shangarf School so ..."
Your teacher shakes his head. "The other kids here aren't so energetic," he explains. "Just Baya. But all alchemists have to love their work. She just shows it a bit more loudly than others. It's not really too bad."
"I ... see."
Seeing your doubtful look, Iršaappa Ḥalluwa hurriedly continues. "The enthusiasm is part and parcel - I'm using it right this time - of the alchemist lifestyle," he says reassuringly. "Don't let that discourage you too much. You'll have fun if you join up with these kids, I promise. They're a talented group."
The sudden attempt to drag you into some ... experiment of sorts ... wasn't something you expected. Especially so quickly after stepping foot into the atelier. But, even when faced with the sheer ... energy of Baya Telesio, you can't really say that it was ... too bad an experience. It's not like you appreciate being praised for your abilities but knowing that you can contribute to some alchemical procedures ... it interests you. Can the powers you possess really be that useful in alchemy?
And though you have no clue on how to handle that girl's excited ramblings ... you don't really hate it.
If she can lower the level of her enthusiasm, then ...
"I suppose so," you admit, glancing at your teacher. As much of a doormat as he seems, if Iršaappa Ḥalluwa is willing to testify in favour of the Shangarf School's competence, then it probably can't be helped. "Then should I go back in and ... participate in her, ah, experiment?"
As sudden as it was, the prospect has left you rather curious.
"Maybe do it later if you want," he answers. "Alchemy takes a while, so maybe go find some other clubs first."
Unexpectedly, Iršaappa Ḥalluwa pats your shoulder supportively.
"Have some fun, Sieghild," the man adds, before he starts to stroll off. "She'll be here all day, so rock up when you can."
~~~
If you had actually taken your teacher's advice to heart, you don't really think you are showing it too well. Strolling through the hallways of the main building to find "Student Affairs" - or, as someone you asked for directions called it, the "Going Home Club" - would likely not be considered "fun" by many, but you have no interest whatsoever in what others think of your club choices. None at all. You want to know what exactly the role of "Student Affairs" is in the greater scheme of things, especially when their stated aim was something along the lines of "helping bridge cultural and planetary differences". Their goal is obvious to you, but what activities they actually do ... that is a question that you want answered.
Their room is a smaller one directly opposite to a second year classroom. A few students are loitering outside, but otherwise there is very little activity to be seen. Which is probably to be expected. You doubt the number of people interested in "Student Affairs" would be particularly high.
You knock on the door.
There's a short silence, then:
"Yeah, get in."
What greets you as you enter is a long, rectangular table, the seats arranged around it mostly empty. The exception is the student at the very far end, his legs rudely resting up on the desk. You instantly notice his ears - they extend upwards from the sides of his head, and bring to mind a fox. And held in his scowling mouth is a small book, sitting between his teeth as if it's perfectly natural. His gaze is sharp and unrelenting, adding further to the harsh aura he exudes.
Under your questioning stare, the boy spits out his book, a long, prehensile tongue grabbing it mid-air and placing it down on his lap.
"Whaddya want?" he growls, as his tongue snaps back. "Name's Sera. Chief of Student Affairs. You joinin' this crew?"
"That is correct," you say. You definitely did not expect this individual to be the leader of Student Affairs, but you don't let it show on your face. "I am Sieghild Scylding. A pleasure."
His response is a gruff one. "Yeah, nice to meetcha."
Then his tongue lashes out again to drop the book back into his mouth.
Once again, silence.
You shift where you stand. The air around you has started to feel ... very awkward. Are you supposed to say something in this situation? Do you comment on whatever his ... book-sucking habits are? Is it even hygienic for him to do such a thing? The fox-eared boy's off-putting manner is more than a little strange and disconcerting, enough to leave you at somewhat of a loss for words.
But finally, and much to your relief, Sera speaks.
"You want a job now or what?" he says after removing the book again.
A part of you wonders if eccentricity is widespread amongst club leaders, but you do your best to be charitable. A sample size of two is no basis for such an assumption.
"Not ... exactly?" you reply, hesitating briefly as you settle on the words. "I simply ... want to know what exactly are the, ah, activities involved with Student Affairs."
Surprisingly, the fox-eared boy's eyes light up upon hearing your question. You have a sneaking suspicion that very few others have been interested enough in the actual doings of a club with a demeaning nickname, though another possibility could have simply been that Sera ... does not possess a welcoming appearance.
"Real important stuff." There's a hint of satisfaction in how he answers. "Problems of all stripes. All colours. When this school's diverse lot needs somethin', we give 'em that. Homeworld info, care packages, cultural shit, that's our turf. Nobody's gonna fuck up cultural and social norm shit when we're on the job."
Even though it's a service you're ... not at all used to, you can see the necessity in a school as multicultural as the House of the Dawn. But at the same time, from Sera's limited description you get the sense that a lot of their duties seem to be ... gruntwork and general administrative duties that you would think more suited for institutions more closely hewed into the academy's fabric.
And their name as well ... "Bridging 'cultural and planetary differences' seems quite narrow a scope for Student Affairs," you observe.
Sera crosses his arms, leaning further back into his seat. He reminds you more of a delinquent than a club leader. "There's thousands of fuckin' worlds of shit we gotta handle," he points out. "Can't 'scape that. When we're reppin' student interests, that's what's involved. Keepin' the masses in harmony is the job, even when the Council just wants some warm bodies to make sure shit's sweet sailin'."
"Did you call?"
You start, turning around to face the speaker. Somehow, you completely failed to notice someone enter.
Nonchalantly leaning against the doorframe is a girl with dusty brown hair, a box of strawberry milk in one hand. The other fiddles with the ends of her hoodie string. Her eyes - steely green, sitting beneath well-defined brows - immediately catch your attention. They have a firm strength to them, one that contrasts greatly with the untidy locks that frame her sharp features.
"Need somethin', Tarxnai?" asks Sera, fixing the girl with a stern stare.
"Don't worry, you're not getting press-ganged today," she answers easily, her eyes scanning the room. "I'm on break so I thought I'd check in. Where's everybody gone?"
"On break. Doin' actual fun shit." Sera nods towards you. "And intro yourself. Don't be rude to my new crew."
"Oh, you actually grabbed somebody?"
The girl's eyes meet yours, and her lips curl up into a confident smile - almost a smirk.
"Sethra Tarxnai. Student Council." She looks you up and down. "So you're joining the Going Home Club."
You attempt to hide your surprise. "Ah ... yes. A pleasure to meet you."
There's an aloof air to her, supported by her rough and tumble manner of speech. But at the same time, she carries herself with a sense of authority that makes it easier to believe that she's actually a member of the mysterious Student Council you have heard a little of.
"We bail the Council out when they got needs," adds the Chief of Student Affairs from behind you. "So if you don't have a job for us, Tarxnai, get outta 'ere! Spend the break with your girl."
Sethra shrugs. "Dazza's looking for free merchandise right now. You have anything tempting?"
"Who'dya think we are?" Sera clicks his long tongue in annoyance. "Hit up the cooks for samples instead. We got nothing."
"Heh, shouldn't be surprised. But sorry, we already checked out the kitchens."
The fox-eared boy makes a sound that could be described as a hybrid between a snort and a yip.
Briefly, you wonder what bond these two actually share.
The rest of your thoughts, however, are focused on another matter.
"If it is, ah, food that you want," you speak up hesitantly, "then would you like a cookie?"
From your pocket, you pull out the box of cookies that your teacher had given you earlier. There's a quiet voice at the back of your mind that wonders if it is rude to give something that you were originally gifted by another, but you are reasonably sure that its concerns don't apply here. Iršaappa Ḥalluwa had provided you with the box of "Xvoir" cookies on a whim, and it could essentially be compared to any other form of free merchandise that clubs were handing out on this day. Simply ... handing over a cookie from your box of eight is nothing like regifting, and it wasn't like you were disrespecting your teacher's ... magnanimity? You just think that it would be ... nice ... to do a little good.
Sethra does not expect your act of generosity.
"You sure?" she asks curiously. "I'll take two."
You have no objections. It's not like you really have a strong attachment to macadamia cookies, and you suppose she might have someone else to give them to.
"Take as many as you wish."
"Thanks." The other girl plucks two free of the proffered box, then casually salutes both you and Sera with her strawberry milk. "Then I'll see you around."
With that curt farewell, she exits back through the door, strolling down the hallway to a destination unknown. Or maybe to find another club that would be willing to give out merchandise. From your relatively short examination of club booths, the allure of free goods appeared to be a common method of attracting new recruits. Though whether or not a Student Council member would have the time to participate ... you have no clue.
"She's Ouardiaei girl's problem now," mutters Sera, brushing back a few stray strands that had fallen over his eyes. "But get to know 'em, Scylding. We'll be workin' together 'til their term ends."
You have no clue who Sera is referring to either.
In any case, you decide to change the subject.
"Is there anything else, ah, relevant to our duties?" you ask. "That you wish to explain. Or is there any work that needs to be ..."
You hope that there isn't. There are still places you want to explore, not to mention finding Theoxena again at some point before clubs day ends.
"Nah."
You stare him down quizzically. The fox-eared boy sighs grumpily, tongue letting go of the book he was about to place once more in his mouth.
You really don't know if you can get used to that behaviour of his.
"Look, we got no work in today," he explains, scratching the side of his head. "And I gave you the gist of our shit. Hit me up on the weekend if you wanna do some good. Otherwise, get outta 'ere. I got others to recruit."
Given the activity around the clubroom, you doubt it.
But you acquiesce anyway. There's still one more club you want to visit.
~~~
"Oi girlie, keen on the Archaeology Club?"
The student manning the booth outside the library is a complete stranger to you. His appearance is distinct, one that you likely would not have forgotten had you ever previously met. The House of the Dawn may have a significant number of unique-looking individuals, but none of them are this tan and muscled young man wearing a brown singlet and orange cargo pants. But his aversion to the uniform isn't his defining quality: that is instead the jagged stripes of seaweed green and aqua that lance through his short, spiky hair.
You can't help but stare. Strange and eccentric hairstyles are nothing new to you, but his looks as if his head had been struck by lightning. You think you can understand the thought process behind it, but rather than something dynamic and shocking ... it looks more like a horrible dye job. There's no stylishness present. It's just ... tacky.
Too tacky.
"Hair's a cracker, ay?" he asks, magenta eyes sparkling. He noticed your gaze. "Bro down at the dairy got me it for cheap."
It takes significant effort to keep yourself from telling him that his 'bro' got him an absolutely terrible deal.
"... Yes - it's, ah, nice," you offer politely, plastering a shallow smile up as best as you can. "My name is Sieghild Scylding."
His face brightens. "Oh, you the girlie Neil was on about? Aw, he'll be stoked to know you're joining."
Stoked?
"... Pardon?"
Seeing your befuddled expression, the young man continues. "Yeah, prettyboy said him and Rani wanted to recruit two funny birds who have heaps of love for history, and lookie here, you're out in full force. But is your mate not keen anymore? That's a bugger."
"No ... ah, she's ... coming later."
Where did the glowing recommendation come from? Not that you don't appreciate Neil painting you in a rather positive light for his fellow club members or anything, but was the impression you made that ... flattering? You don't even remember talking to Rani either. Most of what you recall is the ... embarrassment and anxiety of that day. It's just surprising that you were even a topic of conversation and more than a bit (you try and not let the heat in your cheeks show) embarrassing.
"Aw shame, then I'll give just you the explanation," says the boy with abominable hair.
"Don't go around stealing my job, Mick," cuts in an approaching voice.
The tanned boy, who you finally have a name for, grins at the sight of a student exiting the library. "Ay boss, you're finally here. Having a trouser day?"
"Ye, woke up this morning and it felt right," the newcomer says as they pull up a seat next to Mick. "But it's been a while, so I decided to wear something on the ... flashy side."
In your opinion, the flared ends of their trousers (and the lace) are probably less flashy than Mick's disastrous dye job. But even discounting that, the fedora sitting atop the ostensible Archaeology Club leader's head is just as memorable to you. It's a well-made hat, but at the same time, it looks rather worn and battered.
"Looks choice, boss."
"I know right?" Their soft, orange gaze shifts towards you. "Oh, sorry about interrupting. I'm Dominique, Class 3-A. I'm in charge of this here Archaeology Club."
"Sieghild Scylding." You pause for a moment. "... Though I believe you, ah, already know who I am."
"That I do." Dominique's lips quirk up. "I hope Neil didn't tell you too much, else this spiel of mine's going to waste."
"You'd have been packing a sad if you were any later," Mick points out. "Was about to steal it from ya."
Dominique huffs. "I was busy, alright? I had to convince Widrafs to make some ..."
They flick their ponytail dramatically, before reaching into a jacket pocket to produce -
"Dan dan dan daa! Club relevant plush merchandise! We'll hold a raffle for it."
"Boss, that's sweet as."
You unconsciously find yourself recoiling. It's a large, plush tarantula wearing a fedora. With the exact same design as the one on Dominique's hat. The club leader looks eminently satisfied with this ... disgusting arthropod facsimile, which ... if you didn't somehow hear it incorrectly ... was produced by your Society and Culture teacher of all people?
"So anyway, that aside -" Dominique returns their attention to you. "Let me give you the details, Sieghild. Aniša's a planet with an incredibly long history, so it's seen its fair share of civilisations rise and fall. And the ruins built by those nations and peoples? They can be found all over the world and contain all sorts of history. And our club exists to search them out, to make sure that the deeds and experiences of the past aren't just left to fade away - or to become nests for monsters."
They place the plush down on the booth's table, and steeple their fingers together.
"It might seem a weird job for students, but we liaise with archaeological teams and the House of the Dawn's own archivists when working on ruins. Some of us help digs, like Mick here, or work on the archives, and if it turns out to be a monster system, a number of us gather up to clear things out so work can continue. You get notified by joining our club groupchat - and if you do want to participate in a dungeon expedition, just respond and we'll put you down in a team. But we don't judge if you don't. And you can bring friends if they want some extra monster-hunting practice."
They take a sharp breath.
"Whew, that's a mouthful." A cough. "But that's not just it. You'll have a good time here, not only if you like history or fighting monsters, but if you just think fun magic artefacts are neat. They're rare, sorry, but sometimes you get some like our club relevant plush merchandise!"
The tarantula gets lifted up again.
"True story," Dominique continues, "we found a weird Kanesh-era children's toy in the ruins of an old housing complex, and Widrafs reverse-engineered to make this cute thing. Inject some cosmic energy, and it can do ... this!"
Eight legs start dancing.
It takes all of your willpower not to scream in shock. What is this ... bizarre contraption? It reminds you of Theoxena's skeletal plush seal except more despicable. It's not like you would be frightened by a mere toy version of a spider or anything, even though they're absolutely disgusting creatures that drop in on you when you least expect it, but ... what child would find this sort of toy in any way amusing? It stares at you with so many beady eyes from under that stupid fedora and it's dancing ... you don't understand why anyone would want it!
Outwardly, your face is composed. You refuse to show any fear. Not that you were scared. That would be ridiculous.
It's a good enough mask that Dominqiue shows no sign of noticing. And much to your relief, they bring an end to the spider's motion the moment they start speaking again.
"So our mandate includes helping digs, archival work, and monster hunting. Not that different from some jobs full-fledged Cosmodrivers do."
"You must have ... ah, many chances to network," you say, your heartbeat finally beginning to slow.
"It's useful getting to know people." They smile. "You can ask Neil about it, he's very into that kind of thing. But speaking of - Mick, have you seen him around?"
Mick narrows his eyes in thought. "Think the fulla went hunting again. Rani said she saw him at the Foreign Film Club earlier?"
"Oh no." Dominique's expression becomes resigned. "Let's hope he's just helping them with something, else ..."
They blink. Something has occurred to them.
"Sieghild, if you're free, do you want to find Neil for us?" they ask. "If it isn't big ask, we just want to make sure he's all fine."
What do you do?
[] Agree to help the Archaeology Club hunt down Neil. You don't know why they're worried about him, but it shouldn't take too much time out of your day to find where he's gone and what he's doing. If you are going to spend more time with them, there should be no problem with doing them a favour.
[] Politely reject. You don't know how long this will take, and you feel like returning to the Shangarf School's atelier to see what kind of experiment Baya Telesio wants to perform. As overwhelming as she was earlier, you aren't entirely opposed to doing things with her. And an alchemical experiment ... you're definitely curious about that.
[] Politely reject. You want to find Theoxena first, although you're not sure if she's been successful with the entire display screen situation.
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You're gonna watch those basketball highlights with Theo if you have to duct-tape your guts in, Sieg.
Oh, I love her.
Ahhhhhh, good odds he found the whole situation pretty awkward himself.
Also, fox boy with a prehensile tongue is a... pretty odd image, ngl. But I like this dude.
lol
Sieg with the personal judgements.
Oh god, this sounds amazing.
Kinda want to hang out with Theo more, but I recognise sidequests when I see them!
[X] Agree to help the Archaeology Club hunt down Neil. You don't know why they're worried about him, but it shouldn't take too much time out of your day to find where he's gone and what he's doing. If you are going to spend more time with them, there should be no problem with doing them a favour.
And more interaction with the archaeology club is interesting.
EternalObserver
eYe Gaze baCk
- Location
- The Void
[X] Agree to help the Archaeology Club hunt down Neil. You don't know why they're worried about him, but it shouldn't take too much time out of your day to find where he's gone and what he's doing. If you are going to spend more time with them, there should be no problem with doing them a favour.
[X] Agree to help the Archaeology Club hunt down Neil. You don't know why they're worried about him, but it shouldn't take too much time out of your day to find where he's gone and what he's doing. If you are going to spend more time with them, there should be no problem with doing them a favour.