#astorstarter

Florian was among the mass of students who stood in astonishment at the sorry state of the dining hall. The tables were upturned and shards of multicoloured glass and what he guessed was china covered the floors. It was a challenge to decipher what was food and what wasn’t. Wine bottles, some still in one piece, lay corkless and empty; Florian expected the carpeting must be soaked. He hadn’t realized he was looking forward to the dinner. It only struck him now that he was deprived of it. Everyone was deprived of it, really. A cacophony of bewildered and crestfallen exclamations rose from the people around him, with a lawless few hooting their approval. Florian felt something akin to annoyance bubble up inside him at the latter. 

Even though they hadn’t gotten far from the doors, the destruction was so great that very little of the floors were bare. His eyes caught the motion of his neighbouring student, and Florian swiftly grasped their arm before they could take another step forward. “Be careful, there’s glass everywhere. And from the looks of it, puddles of wine, too. Wouldn’t want your shoes to lose their shine.”

her fingertips breezed over a number of books on the shelf, all titles about politics and what reese would equate right now to sheer misery. she had read all the books, she had watched all the documentaries, she had seen her with her own eyes her father’s rise to power and she was content that one day she’d also see his downfall. the thought frankly brightened up her day between the thoughts of how much she loathed him, loathed andrew and loathed the arsonists. she was rather intoxicated by her rage at present, it called to her as if it was home and the last similarities she shared with her sister were fading away like a dimming old light bulb. sha barely remembered their shared sense of self but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t sure she would do absolutely anything to protect her -- that was why she didn’t tell her about what she had said to agata or her hope to eventually get her own revenge.

she turned to the person that appeared as she rounded the corner from their shelves, a book about women’s aggression in politics in her hands. she peered at the other with interest, “are you looking for something interesting?”

Cup in hand, back resting against the post, his leather back hanging idly on his right shoulder, Daniel stared at absolutely nothing as he thought about the events that took place just a few hours prior. It had been a grueling half-hour assembly, and Daniel sat in Comparative Vertebrate Anatomy feeling agitated, and many, many miles away. It took the professor two tries to get his attention when he was called to answer a question, something that rarely ever happened to him. He was able to answer the question without missing a beat, anyway, but he still felt.... out of sorts.

It was to be expected that an interrogation would take place. Daniel was prepared for that; in fact, that was why he went to the Starbucks before the theater in the first place. But what he didn’t expect was Florian being dragged into it all. How could he stand by and watch as they accuse Florian of something he had no involvement in whatsoever? True, it was just an interrogation, but the fact of the matter was that Florian, who was innocent in all this, was included. Daniel, who was not, wasn't suspected at all. A sudden commotion from his peripheral vision snapped him out of his trance, and he blinked as he gathered his bearings, spouting off the discussion he’d just listened to in class as if on autopilot. “So, that’s what you call homologous, when different species have structures that may look different and have different functions, but can be traced to the same evolutionary origin...”

The Academy grounds were abuzz with activity that particular evening, students excitedly checking out all the booths that were prepared in celebration of the opening of the All Hallows’ Fest. Mason stood on one side, camera in hand, taking pictures of the flurry of activity every now and then, and when Camille Troy caught his eye, he flashed her a too-eager grin. She was standing by the school paper attraction, a booth that promised a ‘horrifying literary experience’ by letting a student sit inside a dark make-shift room and listen to some horror audiobook. That evening’s selection was Agatha Christie’s works, and Mason could remember Camille glaring at him when he told her it was a lame idea. He still stood by his word, and perhaps it was due to Camille’s abrasiveness that there were actually two students standing by the booth. Two. Mason shook his head in amusement. 

He took some more pictures, and walked around the grounds. Mason stopped by a specific booth and sighed, clearing his throat once he was standing behind someone, and bringing up the camera to his chest. He inwardly groaned as he thought of what he was doing, and what he would be doing for the next three weeks. “Hi,” he said flatly. “Would you mind if I took some photos? It’s for the paper.” He didn’t even bother to hide his distaste for his current task.

The first day of school was always a pain. Veronica loved vacations, the smell of homemade coffee exactly the way she liked it always waiting for her when she woke up, the numerous shopping sprees and movie dates with her mother, the ballgames with her father, it was almost like going back to her childhood years again - an odd sense of freedom and carelessness enveloped her when she was home. As if she didn’t bear the weight of the world on her narrow shoulders. But now she was back. It would take some time getting used to just the sheer number of people.

By the time she finished unpacking her 4th suitcase, it was evening. Glancing out of the large window in her room she realised the weather was perfect for a short run. It would be a good way to avoid running into people for sure. Now Astor after 10 pm, that was what she was waiting for. She quickly texted Daniel and Florian to meet her at their usual spot after dark and got into her special edition Nike shoes. Walking down the corridor she noticed how the excited Freshers fell silent as she walked past them. Plugging in her Bluetooth earphones, she launched into a spirited run but only to be interrupted by someone calling her name. She furrowed her eyebrows, evidently annoyed, and turned around. “Who was that?” she asked, confused at not seeing anyone in her immediate vicinity.

Time: Lunch O’Clock

Availability: whoever wants to deal with this hot mess

Emphatic whispers and censorious stares welcomed Agata as she walked into the lounge to have her mid-day meal. To her, it felt like an unholy pilgrimage on desecrated land. As she made a beeline to an empty table at the far corner of the room, there was not a single soul who tried to conceal their judgement about her. Though it was like a cliche scene from a coming-of-age film unfolding, it was the reality she was facing. Ever since she was called to the headmaster’s office for an interrogation of all things, people couldn’t help themselves from gossiping about it. “That’s her.” She would often hear from the lips of those around her. It was bad enough that people thought her as an odd and undesirably blunt person, but worse as they thought her as a suspected offender, a transgressor, a terrorist.

A sharp exhale escaped from her lips as she placed her bag on the table and sat down. Without minding the uninvited stares, Agata procured from her bag a packed sandwich and a tall flask of water. Although she tried her very best to mind her own business, the attitude she was giving out with her silence was not reciprocated by others. She snapped her attention to the next table who were conspicuously glancing her way, and smiled. “Yes? What is it?” She asked, throwing her hands up and giving them an almost deranged-looking smile. “If you all wanna know something, just fucking ask me!” She piped, but instead of stimulating a response from that, it made the onlookers turn away.

Agata scoffed and rolled her eyes before taking the lid off from her sandwich container. As she was taking the wrapped sandwich out of its safe-keeping, a shadow loomed over her, making her aware of the presence close by. “Do you want to interrogate me too?” She muttered before taking a bite from her food and looking up with a smile. She chewed her food nonchalantly and jerked her eyebrows.

location: somewhere by the infamous kissing booth

time: 6:18 am

location: the dock

availability: open

First years did have required meetings they must attend, to get them introduced to the school and what it offers but Kingston didn’t understand why anyone really bothered to go, at least, for informational purposes wise. Each class and course dictated itself differently, things that couldn’t be covered in a two hour introductionary lecture, and a map of the school was readily available in each section of the school. The only other purpose Kingston could think about was for socializing, making connections, and although it was a valid attempt for anyone to go, it wasn’t for him. It hadn’t been for him since he was eleven, and he certainly wasn’t going to complicate today’s game for a worthless purpose. If he needed help, he would look in the handbook, or go to a professor, or look at the map, or, if he was really desperate, he could quickly ask someone himself.

Right now, he didn’t want to ask anyone, nor did he want to interact with anyone. Luckily for him, since most of the other students were asleep, and the first-years who decided they wanted to go to the meeting were all in one room, the dock was empty. Here, he had a clear view of the water surrounding him, a tinted-blue, cocktailed with the gray of the fog to release an eerie yet calming atmosphere, coupled with the cool breeze of the morning. He decided to sit down at the edge of the dock with his legs dangling over the edge, his body leaning back with most of his weight on his two arms as he stared out to the body of water. At moments like these, he could be at peace. At moments like these, he didn’t pick up his next piece and chose to walk away from the match, the rook he was planning to move forward left in its place as he let himself calm down and enjoy what was in front of him. At moments like these, he thought about Caspar, and how he was, hopefully, settling in his new home, a better home.

He wondered how his father took his letter. Would he try to find Kingston? With what lead? He never spoke about the name of the school, nor where he was. How would his father know to look in Russia of all places, when he barley knew around their little town in Avignon? Still, Kingston let himself wonder, but he wouldn’t let himself fall into fear, because his father wasn’t worth fearing, what would happen wasn’t worth—

The moment he heard footsteps, he ran back to the board and moved his rook three squares forward before he spoke.

“I’m sorry, am I in your way?”