You lean back and relax against the wall to see the sort of things your classmates can do. The ones called immediately after you are not particularly impressive, and you find yourself
zoning out a little, mostly waiting for your friends' names to be called.
"Nutmeg Boulderfall," Is the first name to be called that you recognize. Your black-furred vox friend trudges out onto the field, looking
less-than-enthused about the whole thing.
"Stand aside," She instructs the teacher, who dutifully steps out of the way. As soon as Sir Mustard is a decent distance away from her, the ground beneath you starts to shake.
Cracks split open, between herself and the class, between her and Sir Mustard, the shape of a circle being etched into the dirt. As soon as the circle is complete, it rises, stopping at about Raspberry-height.
Satisfied with her work, Nutmeg hops off of the platform she made and rejoins the class. Sir Mustard sighs.
"I suppose Biscotti knew the risks, when he gave me permission to use the grounds..."
Somehow, you don't think he meant to be loud enough for the class to hear him. With another sigh, he speaks the next name. "...Bel Pepper."
Somehow, this doesn't surprise you at all. Bel leaps up onto the raised platform without a second thought, possibly just for the sake of proving that he
can. Not that it's all that impressive. The only one of your classmates that you're friends with who is taller is Caramel.
Like Nutmeg, he turns to address your teacher. "I don't suppose you have any magic dolls lying around?"
"We don't keep combat equipment in the classroom." The reply is deadpan. This conversation has most likely happened before. "And it was always
Ketchup's job to program them, anyway..." You file that away as a possible hint to the twins' magical talents, though you're pretty sure you aren't going to get anywhere. From what you can tell, people have been guessing about those two for
centuries.
Bel sighs, having
clearly expected this answer, but apparently unable to resist the temptation to ask. "I guess I'll do this, then."
He reaches down with his claws, cleanly snips away a blade of grass, which stands out a bit against the reddish-brown of his fur. He holds it out in front of him, lets go, and the blade
swirls upwards, trapped in some kind of blustery vortex.
Sir Mustard looks unimpressed. You don't blame him. You're sure that, if he tried, the felin could do something a lot more impressive than this, this is just what he felt like dedicating effort to. But he still reaches over for the list, to keep going down it. Or up it. You aren't sure.
You don't recognize the next person to take the stage, but they seem to share Bel's opinion that Nutmeg's platform is the best place to do a display from. You suppose that's just going to be a thing now.
"Caramel Highpitch." You've been sort of waiting for this. Well, not
sort of. You'd just plain wanted to see what he'll do. Or hear. Whatever. Sound magic is weird that way.
Your classmate stands on the raised platform, now covered in blooming flowers of all kinds, and he reaches into a large cloth bag, pulling out a lyre as white as his hair.
"What do you think we should play?" He asks the instrument, his mouth forming the impression of another word. A name, most likely, that he would not have received lightly, even if it matters little when he is already the owner of the spirit's home. "...All right,
fine, if it'll get you to just
shut up about it..."
And he plucks at the strings.
It's not a very complicated tune, you think, though you don't know enough about music to be sure. But something about it feels... oddly familiar.
Right, in some way, that you'd be hearing this song, now, in this place. There's an odd power to it, almost, but you can't quite say for sure.
Caramel has no sheet music in front of him. This song, that he's playing in tones that maybe don't quite fit his instrument, is something that he can play from memory, even if his words earlier imply that he wasn't all that enthused about it. If this song has no passion behind it... what
else could he do?
You guess that, sharing a classroom with him, you're bound to eventually find out.
Even after he stops playing, the song hangs in the air, refusing to fade away just yet, but echoing through the world around you.
"Raspberry Dazemirror." As soon as her name is called she's out in front of the platform, scampering forward with her light-blue braid flying behind her. Sadly, she is too small to actually climb up onto the platform.
Still, this does not dampen her enthusiasm one bit as she pulls a small paintbrush and packet of paints out of her pocket. She dips her brush in the red paint and reaches forward into the air, wiggling her brush around and staining the air. Without a canvas, she paints a picture of a red gummy worm, which falls to the ground as soon as the last bit of detailing is complete. She whispers something, and the worm picks itself up, peering at you all from the safety of the grass.
"It's a construct controlled by a Beauty Spirit- more specifically, the spirit of my brush," She explains, as the creature glances around. "It's inedible, will dissolve into water, is very flammable, and will collapse into two dimensions when the spirit leaves it, but I'm sure it will be useful someday! It doesn't even have to be a living creature- the spirit has inhabited a painted car before."
Raspberry sounds very pleased with herself. You suspect that this is the culmination of a great deal of time and effort on her part. It's not like you hadn't known she was dedicated to her art. The very circumstances of your becoming friends has taught you that.
Somehow, you don't think anyone in the class could do anything more impressive than that.
You're not sure you can call what happened today a class. Mostly, you just stood around or talked to people. But that's the morning gone, and now you need to figure out what to do with your afternoon.
[ ] Spend time with Raspberry and the others. You think Paprika might be getting dragged in, as well.
[ ] Go to the library. See what there is to find.
[ ] The meditation room could be nice and relaxing...
