The World Around Us - Class 1

[ken]

Books filled the classroom. Every age of man had been documented within the texts, from ancient times to the modern age. Each opening a small window on the world.

Some of these books could be found at the Academy and no where else. Recorders had been keeping track of Gifted and Supernaturals for years. The books dated back to the Renaissance, and even those mentioned earlier texts. One could read about faeries wars, or the vampire involvement in World War II.

And any subject was open to the students. The Academy believed that students should more or less educate themselves, with a tutor to guide them. This meant that Kennedy Cavan, head of the house baring his name, had to dip in a wide range of knowledge. He currently read up on faerie lycan affairs, written from someone who just happened to be both.

Kennedy sat at a desk, and there were several others scattered throughout the room. None were as fancy as Kennedy's, but they would certainly suffice. Whomever ran the Academy had also seen fit to equip the classroom with computers.

Now it just needed to be equipped with students.

"Projects, oh the joy," murmured Kennedy, looking to the door.

OoC: this class is required for all students. Your absence will be noted!

[Locke F. Herald]

Locke walked into class, he wouldn't miss one of Kennedy's classes, not when the tutor had such front row seats to making history. But instead of diving right into a book, as he usually would, he sat back and awaited his own student. It would be poor form to start without her.

"Good morning Tutor Caven." He greeted, with the formality due a tutor. Outside he was just Kennedy, but here he was in a position of authority, so it would do well to keep up the illusion.

"Having a good day then?" He asked simply, as he began unpacking his books and humming.

[ĸara вelova★]

Kara limped into the classroom, a sling holding her left arm up. She hated it. Hated how it drew unnecessary attention to her, hated how it was restricting, and most of all hated it because it was the only thing helping her arm heal faster. They hadn't had a healer with the right power to fix her up perfectly, so she was stuck healing the old fashioned way. Kara had no idea what the point of having mystical abilities if one couldn't use them to do something useful. They'd promised to call her when they had someone with the ability to mend her arm.

The glare she shot Kennedy upon seeing that he was heading the class should have made him drop dead. The fact that he was looking at her made her even more peeved, and it took a good deal of willpower to use her own gift to grow calm.

Wordlessly she sat at one of the desks, gingerly shifting as the awkward pajama-looking scrubs the Infirmary provided for her chafed against her raw hip wound. Falling down a flight of stairs would make anyone overly cautious, making every movement feel more dramatic and thought-out than was required. Shifting so her feet were under her desk, Kara propped her uninjured elbow on the desk and held her head up with the paw of her hand.

Then she continued to glower at Kennedy.

[morg]

This was the class Morgan hated the most. Not because she particularly hated the subject, but it was always galling to take classes under Kennedy. No matter what they did, there was always friction between the two siblings. Would take a miracle to eliminate all of it.

Now she hurried into the room, heading for a seat in the back. Fortunately, you could effectively ignore the tutor so long as you kept busy. Morgan immediately started a computer, and then turned to see who else was in the room.

She nodded to Locke, though she wasn't certain he'd notice. The other girl looked unfamiliar, but Morgan couldn't help but wince on seeing the arm. Morgan had suffered too many sports injuries not to feel whenever she saw someone hurting. Especially something like this.

The computer had finished logging in, and Morgan turned to sign in as a student. Project time. Oh the joy.

[Garion DeLuse]

Garion walked into class, eyes on his schedual. Cavan? Morgan's brother? He recalled her saying something about him.

Garion Plopped his books down next to a computer, and then his hand flew over the keyboared, logging in. He looked over to Morgan, and waved. He would have sat nearer to her, but she was in the back, and Garion couldn't see anything unless he was in the front (other than the back of people's heads).

The computer logged on surprisngly fast. The school computers Garion was used to were sluggish at best.

[ken]

"Been good so far," answered Kennedy, nodding to Locke. Students were coming in at a fairly decent rate. Of course Kennedy recognized Locke. And Kennedy's sister was around here somewhere, he'd seen her sneak in. Probably still avoiding him, not that he blamed her much.

And Kara looked rather the worse for wear. Kennedy sighed, his eyes going to that arm. Unfortunately, he didn't have the healing Gift at the moment: too much shifting. Eidetic Memory and Empathetic Projection, from the feel.

There was also a remarkably young kid who'd actually waved at his sister. Puzzled, Kennedy studied him for a bit, wondering just what he was. Probably not human, to be here so young. Then again, he could be a technopath or a telepath of some kind. Those were often extremely mature kids. Who knew?

"Remember, if you need any help, just ask," offered Kennedy. He then kicked off his desk, walking over to Kara.

he nodded at the arm, "You alright? You could go see a healer or something, I think there's one on duty..."

Gah, why did she always have to glare at him? It made being nice so hard...

[Peyton Howard.]

"Asidfugertfv!" Peyton groaned, a sad but angry look on her face as she trudged through the door, a singular sheet of paper and one pen in her grasps.
"I hate this stuff," she grumbled, pouting now and suddenly, her snails pace changed to a blur and she zoomed off to a computer in the back corner.

She was slumming it with style, a dope cap on her mussed head and one leg of her sweats rolled up to mid calf, for lols. The girl wore one article of bling, and that was her large gold crucifix; though not very smart, she saw the irony in it. Today was Dope day, but every activity other than her dress was obviously hush hush. Logging on, the girl opened a web browser; the first tab being Myspace, and the second, her online bank account.

[Duke Bell.]

Because Duke was absolutely awesome at everything, he was already in class. In fact, he had been sitting in the exact same back corner that Peyton had just sat down in. He woke with a start, one side of his hair epically spiked as he raised his head to glare at the dealer, who had decided to sit next to him.

"Keep it down," he ordered, the look on his face terrible, and then, he promptly resumed his new goal for the school year; to ignore her unless it was absolutely necessary not to. He rubbed the color back into his cheeks and then slumped forward, face resting in the crook of his elbow as he scrawled away notes. He fought off the drowsiness and was mostly successful, except for how he fell asleep every second line or so. Unbeknown to him, a continuous stream of h's, and then one b, ran along his word document, which had the beginnings of a project typed up.

[harry]

Harry was sure there was only one person more stupid than he was, and that was Peyton Howard. The girl was notorious for her air-headedness, among other things, but it was still without great confidence that he entered the room. He'd managed to graduate from secondary level, somehow, seriously, and was now in his first undergraduate year. Some days, he insisted on wearing a badge that declared his level of study, because he hardly believed it himself. Though he wasn't a fan of school at all (he was only studying to become an astronaut, nothing too big or flashy), he did realize its importance in achieving his dream, which obviously was to become a famous astronaut, drive a Ferrari and have a steady girlfriend.

The look on his face was another story. He looked completely and entirely depressed, like he had a few months ago, for real, as if he wanted to be elsewhere. He hated learning with a passion. Unfortunately, the only Wingrose student he knew was Peyton, and he definitely wasn't going to sit anywhere near her. He avoided her on most days, but today, she was with that guy from that other house; Harry was sure that if he dug up repressed memories, he would find that the mean-spirited boy had made him cry at one point. Settling into a chair near the young kid and the younger Cavan, he took out his material and started studying, occasionally doodling lyrics and drawings in the margin and in between lines.

[bishop]

There were some classes Bishop actually, genuinely wished he could avoid. Despite his interest in history, it was not a subject he enjoyed in the Academy. See, Duke was in that class, and it was so obvious that the one thing that made Bishop cease to breathe, other than pretty, deadly girls, was Duke Bell. The young man of few words sighed in resignation and crossed the threshold, expression mild and borderline apathetic. He nodded in Kennedy's direction, but only because it was the polite thing to do, and politeness was something bred into him by the world. Carrying minimal material, he sat himself wordlessly beside Morgan.

He was motionless for a while, staring blankly at the monitor, lecture pad with loose leaflets and paper, and a pen clutched in one hand, which was currently resting on a leg. He blinked, and then the two things he'd brought were set beside the keyboard, but the weariness about him hadn't changed.
"Hey," he said to Morgan, remembering her, thought it would have been hard to forget; Bishop didn't like many girls, but the younger Cavan was on the exclusive list.

[Elliot is on the edge.]

Elliot was still rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she slunk into the classroom, her Andy Warhol bag looped over her sagging shoulders. Paying Kennedy no attention, the blonde headed for the back, planning on slipping into a seat in the farthest corner and diligently wasting the entire class period on Facebook; but of course, the least conspicuous computers had already begun to be picked off, and while Peyton was probably one her favorite people on the face of the earth, Duke was not, despite how pretty she found him to be.

Sighing, the Almasian waved at her friend before weaving amongst the desk and sitting down on the other side of Bishop, smiling weakly past him at Morgan. She was exhausted, having spent the night out - as most of her nights were spent now - and only woken to find herself incredibly regretful that she had ever bought Eiji that stupid radio alarm because it was screaming Chris Brown music to remind her that she had school. With her ringlets pulled back into a ponytail and dressed in blue Victoria's Secret sweats, she looked the picture of indifferent, truly unconcerned with the blank computer monitor in front of her.

Turning on the computer, she dropped her bag and sighed once more, tempted to take a page out of Duke's book and just sleep.

[· Rebel La'Beau.]

The muffled sounds of a low-grade scuffle could be heard in the hallway and after a minute Rebel entered the classroom, swearing under her breath as she shut the door rather forcibly. A teacher had caught her smoking a cigarette - a Gitanes, as she had insisted - and had ordered it be put out because smoking indoors, and on a school campus, was obviously against policy for a flood of reasons. Rebel, who was hung over and still a little bit drunk, had put up a poor, but nonetheless stubborn, defense for all of thirty seconds before she eventually caved, smothering the cigarette on the bottom of her boot and stepping into class.

Slumping down on the other side of Duke, the pink-haired girl payed him no mind, because she was sure that he was drooling on the keyboard, and turned on her computer, leg already jiggling restlessly as the machine kicked into life. Rebel pulled the hood over her sweatshirt over her ears and slumped further down in her chair, already miserable.

[noah]

Noah had slipped in at some point and seated himself a few chairs down from Morgan, tossing a hackysack up in the air repeatedly, already deathly bored. The Cavanite liked to learn and all, but he could only sit still for so long before he felt that he would surely explode from all the energy building up inside him. Tossing the leather bag filled with sand up once more, he caught it lazily in one hand, his other tapping a beat against the desk.

It was beginning to freeze outside, and he really wanted to lace up his trainers and see how far along he could slide on the massive walk-up. It was a bizarre craving, but the weather was too cold to allow for any sports, let alone a decent run, and it seemed like an idea more entertaining than this. Suddenly he wished Kenneth was around, because Noah knew all too well how the other boy would be completely into causing some mischief with him.

[jess]

Much to the chagrin of the hungover and depressed, Jessica entered with all the flare of a gay marching band instructor. Her gaggle of giggling girls gaily gallivanted in. Peals of laughter rang out, hitting dangerous pitches.

Jessica scanned the area, quickly noting who was who. Fashion designer, victims, and Duke, who was the only one there who gave Jessica the least bit of pause. Even the instructor was nothing more than a pushover: whipped by his girlfriend.

Jessica flicked toward a computer, and a few of her group pealed away to take them. Jessica herself headed, down, all smiles, to browse the books.

"Hmm..." she put a finger to her mouth, swaying her hips as she studied the books, making a show of her selection. Then she turned behind her, calling to her companions. "What am I researching again?"

"Faeries in World War II!"
"Hitler's necromancy!"
"Napeoleon's Gifts!"

Yes, the answers were far too varied for any of them to truly be accurate. Jessica simply shrugged, slid a thick volume off the shelf, and headed for a seat near the back. Her group flocked around her, forming a barrier between the Queen Bee and the rest of the students.

[Ϛ Christopher Nightingale]

Next to enter was a pair who was a good deal more happy than most of the rest of the class, by the looks of things. Chris trotted in the door almost laughing as he did his best to look up and sideways at Claire's face, Claire being piggybacked at the time. He had only just halted a run outside of the classroom, a part of his ongoing goal to ensure Claire trusted he would never let her fall. Next on the list was to try and convince her riding on his shoulder would be fun.

Hiking the girl up further on his back, he walked over to the nearest pair of untaken computers and, with some difficulty, pulled out a chair, turned around, and sat Claire right on it. Only after he had pushed her chair back in so it was facing the computer did he find his own seat beside her.

Chris was actually looking forward to this class. Not only because Claire was in it (though that was, in truth, a large part of it), but also because he actually enjoyed History. Mostly because he found it interesting, but the fact that he was great at it didn't hurt much. He was almost as good at remembering useless History trivia as he was at forgetting more important things, like birthdays, names, and doctors' appointments.

Still, the first thing he did upon logging in was open various writing sites (for some reading), newgrounds (for some music), and facebook (for some chatting). He pulled his trusty iPod out of his pocket, plugged its headphones into his computer instead, and got to it.

You're such a slacker.

Might as well get it out of the way first so I can concentrate on the more important stuff.

Concentrate? With her here? I'd like to see it.