In following him, I follow but myself.

Ruggie has no qualms following Ortho. If there was anyone on this team best equipped to march on towards unknown terrain, it was undoubtedly Idia Shroud’s robotic brother. Ruggie finds a sense of ease walking alongside their humanoid companion; as long as Ortho’s tech gear remains working, aren’t they practically indomitable?! Steely resolve lets the hyena trek onwards, taking on the infinite staircase until a vivid light pierces his eyes.

“Augh–!” He gasps, instinctively taking a step backwards. He nearly missteps, heel going past the ledge, and Ruggie’s mid-maneuver as a strong force suddenly grips him. It prevents the hyena from tumbling, yet successfully discombobulates him as he’s practically spun onto cobblestone. Ruggie nearly topples from the drastic shift of terrain, eyes flying open in shock– Then a body thuds besides him. 

“T-Trey?!” The hyena yelps, barely processing what in the great Seven’s just happened, when he notices a specter charging at him from the ends of his vision. Quick reflexes enables him to wield his pen—

Ruggie rolls a 1: Miss! 

Painting Ghost rolls a 14: 1.5dmg incoming! Ruggie’s hp: 3.5 / 5 

—But he hardly has time to cast a proper spell as their assailant comes for him next.  The ghost’s spell crushes his shoulder mid-cast. Ruggie’s thrown back as black paint-ooze splatters onto his uniform, the gale that he summons goes off-kilter. It whirls past the ghost and slices the painting behind it. The intricate portrait slams onto the ground, echoing into the abyss. 

@threadedwheels / @vipetriol / @99lostsouls​ / @troisfleur

A morphing world. A dry thud. A stifled yelp. A gust of wind.

Trey is on the ground in the blink of an eye.

Jamil’s mind hasn’t quite caught up with the barrage of stimuli, but his body moves on instinct all the same— he doesn’t need another second to know they’re under attack.

Jamil rolls an 11 and a 9 for damage: Hit for 1 dmg!

Painting Ghost rolls an 11 and a 10 for damage: 1 dmg incoming!

Painting Ghost’s HP: 2/3 

Jamil’s HP: 4/5

A fire spell cast on reflex finds its mark. The foul smell of burning oil paint rises into the air, and a shrill, inhuman wail reverberates across the castle’s stone walls. As it writhes against the frame it had presumably gone out from, the ghost seethes, now settled on its next mark.  

Jamil prepares to retaliate, but the earlier soreness returns with a vengeance, sending painful jolts across his right arm. He’s half a second too slow in casting a defence spell, and the incoming strike sends him crashing onto the cobbled ground.

He can’t help his ravenous disposition! Ruggie crinkles his nose, but doesn’t protest as Ortho pushes him away. Jamil’s nomination for Trey to be their leader strikes his curiosity. It makes sense, theoretically, but the thought of being led by someone with as much assertion of a kudu almost makes him snort. 

Well, noncommittal leaders came with certain advantages, too. 

Pale eyes flicker towards the bar nonchalantly placed in Trey’s pocket. Ruggie feels his fingers itch, but keeps them at his side. Instead, as the team discusses their predicament, he rotates his ears in an attempt to pick-up sound. 

“I’m not pickin’ up any noise here ‘sides us,” Ruggie pitches in, “No echoes, no movement, no mice, nothin’.”  He examines the nearby staircase, “So, we don’t really got a choice but t’go higher, right? Ember’s mirror doesn’t work ‘n Ortho’s connection’s all funky, the only other option we got is t’sit around like anxious prey waitin’ t’get plucked.” 

@threadedwheels / @vipetriol / @99lostsouls / @troisfleurs-blog​

Would heading to higher ground really make a difference? As far as Ortho’s connection and the mirror’s functionality are concerned, Jamil doubts it. The layout of the place doesn’t seem linear— not if the winding staircases stretching out in every possible, nonsensical path are of any indication. He’s not an expert in technology by any means, but navigating this place is bound to be more complex than blindly waving a phone around in hopes of reception. 

But, it’s true that they stand nothing to gain by staying here, and it’s best to get moving. 

While the group debates their options, Jamil notices a familiar bottle lying by his feet. He kneels down, sliding it into his pocket covertly as he pretends to tie his shoelace. 

“Seems like our safest bet to me,” he says, and he’s back on his feet. “It’s better than standing still, at least. We should go.”

“‘’Course I’m worried about my gummies, every scrap of food’s important!” Ruggie’s brows furrow defiantly, a frown tugging at his lips. They were premium quality, too! The good stuff that all the rich kids got that had frost-apples and artisan sugar and it was supposed to keep him afloat since the teams were gonna share their rations, but now they don’t even have rations to share! This sucks! 

The sound of a wrapper crinkling immediately sends Ruggie scurrying to Trey’s side, eyes wide and transfixed upon the bar. He only spares one second to check his pockets.

“I only got my magipen, no mirror.” Ruggie says. His peels dart from the ice cream, to Trey, to the other students, then back down at the ice cream. “An’ I’m also kii~iinda hungry…” 

@threadedwheels / @vipetriol​ / @99lostsouls​​ / @troisfleur​​

“I lost my bag, so gummies would be preferable to nothing, really,” Jamil admits. He doesn’t have the mirror either, and with his supplies gone, every scrap of food does matter— doubly so with Ruggie around. He shoots an all-too-knowing glare at the beastman. “You? Hungry? Never would’ve guessed.”

On the bright side —if there’s one to be found— having Ortho in their group means one less mouth to feed, but Jamil refrains from voicing the thought out loud, lest Ortho find offence to it.

“As both our senior and Heartslabyul’s vice-housewarden, I believe we can entrust Trey to ration our resources,” or so Jamil says. His tone is perfectly cordial, if not borderline sycophantic, but it was Trey who crushed the miserable bar in the first place, so he should take responsibility.  

“At any rate, we should take a look around. There might be some more stuff we dropped.”  

@prince-kalim has sent: "Jamil!" Kalim calls out as he preps himself to leave. He decided on a trip to Sam's store to see if there was anything that he could get for the students currently stuck in Ramshackle. While normally he would let Jamil do all his shopping he felt the want to go himself this time.

Part of him thought to not tell his best friend and surprise him with something on his return but changing his mind last second he peeked his head into the others room.

"I'm going to Sam's store to buy some things, ok? I'll be back later!" He chirped before quickly turning to leave a bounce in his step. Maybe he could still surprise the other with something…

“No, you’re not.”

No sooner had Kalim announced his intentions than Jamil sprung from his seat and dashed after him. He catches up in a few quick strides, and grabs the back of Kalim’s uniform in order to restrain him.

“Care to tell me what the hell is so important that you have to go get it yourself? I stopped by the Mystery Shop earlier today, everything you need should be in your room already.”

Even if it wasn’t, letting Kalim handle any sort of shopping without supervision is a recipe for disaster: before they know it, Ramshackle will be swarmed with knick knacks no one has any use for, and Jamil will be left to deal with the clean-up.

— No, no. There’s no need to entertain that train of thought. Because Kalim isn’t buying anything, not today. Not if Jamil can avoid it.

➤ [ 6:15 P.M. School Gym. ]

Fifteen minutes. 

Club activities have concluded for the afternoon and in the middle of  the empty gymnasium, stands Jamil. Solitude comes as a pocket of fresh air in the midst of an otherwise swarmed schedule. He’d offered to stay behind and handle clean-up by his lonesome, all for the sake of this fifteen-minute grace period before returning to his duties.

Fifteen minutes and no longer. Well, it's more than enough.

With headphones on and song on loop, Jamil places his bag on the bleachers, props his phone against it, and presses record. He’ll repeat the choreography three times, review the recording to assess his performance and return to Ramshackle. No one will be none the wiser. 

About Jamil & the Basketball Club〈 Part I : Club Choice 〉

Disclaimer: Raffles is more of a fútbol (⚽) fan than a basketball one and isn’t super knowledgeable on the sport. This meta mostly revolves around my interpretation of Jamil’s feelings towards the club and his reason for choosing it over other options. A small head’s up: this makes small, passing references to Jamil Clubwear voicelines, not yet released in EN.  It will be split into three parts: Part two will discuss Jamil's position in the team, his behaviour during and after practice, and general gamestyle. Part three will handle his dynamics with other club members and his feelings towards them.

Overview

Despite the fact he might not be fully aware of it, Jamil is closest to acting like his authentic self during the time he spends in basketball practice. It’s not that he’s specifically driven by a deep love for the sport or that he is especially fond of his teammates— rather, it just so happens to provide an environment where he can loosen due to the absence of his usual stressors and responsibilities. Because Kalim isn’t part of the club, he doesn’t have to worry about prioritising his safety or undermining his own abilities; in other words, he doesn't have to play for anyone's sake other than his own, allowing him to present a part of himself rarely on display prior to Book 4 in canon.

[ Continued below. ]

Perfectly average. Assuming cohort/grade size is around 165~ students, Jamil usually ranks around the 80th spot, almost with eerie accuracy. Whenever he gets closer to the 75th spot, the following exam period will have him rank somewhere closer to 85th. He never leaves the 75th-85th range, and he’s almost always somewhere between the 79th and 81st spots. This is a careful balancing act he carries out deliberately to make sure he stays somewhere in the middle, completely unassuming, neither remarkable nor reproachable. This is true even when grades drastically increase overall (E.G: because of Azul’s study guides) as he makes sure to adjust his performance in accordance to the expected over-saturation of drastically improved scores. Even though his academic ranking leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, he still finds satisfaction in knowing he’s capable of calculating his final standing with this level of precision. It’s a personal secret, a minor scheme he can be proud of despite the sour circumstances surrounding it. Surely no one will notice and find it suspicious, right?  ( He definitely thinks he could make it to the top two if he wanted to. But he doesn’t. So he’s not in the top two. And he doesn’t care. It doesn’t bother him. It doesn’t bother him in the slightest! Uh huh. )

Jack of all Trades. Jamil’s academic performance is even all across the board. As noted by Azul, he has no significant weaknesses or struggles with any course. Even though he’s constantly trying to conceal it, he has a lot of innate talent, with his main asset being  his ability to naturally pick up a wide array of skills and knowledge with relative ease. In this sense, he could be considered a multitalented prodigy. However, he stagnates just as quickly. Natural ability can only take him so far (which is usually "pretty good" or “impressive” but never THE best or exemplary) and he needs to put in that extra time and effort to be able to break through his own threshold and improve beyond his current level and be truly excellent. Of course, because he isn't allowed to outshine Kalim and must only use his skills for Kalim's sake rather than his own, he's never been allowed to exploit his talents and test how far he can go without restraining himself. Hence jack of all trades, master of none. As a small, personal treat, he allows himself to be slightly better at some courses— typically those that he feels especially interested in or that come naturally to him. Ancient incantations is at the top of that list, followed by Astrology, as they are the subjects Scarabian students are historically the best at, and in which the Sorcerer of the Sands is said to have dabbled in. Because of his admiration towards Scarabia’s patron, it’s important to Jamil that he perform well in these and that he absorbs the information best he can. He’s also adept at Alchemy and Flying, the first of which comes naturally to him due to his experience with detail-oriented work tutoring Kalim and preparing his meals, while the latter is more due to a personal enjoyment (expanded on below.) 

@troisfleur sent: [CATCH] “THIS MIGHT BE YOURS?”

It’s a bird. Peacock, more specifically, looking just as confused at being caught as Trey is at having caught it. Confusion is nice, though; generally, when it’s Trey’s turn to feed the flamingos, they generally just threaten to knock the feed bags out of his hands and take a few fingers with it.

Trey’s the last person who should be handling birds, really. But, hey, quick thinking at least kept him from being at the receiving end of intimidation tactics. To be fair, the peacock does look like it’s considering violence. The tail feathers are most definitely ruffled. (After one swift, testing peck, Trey’s never been gladder to need glasses, as he’s pretty sure he’d lose an eye to its ire otherwise.)

“Don’t think this is a new and exciting breed of croquet flamingo coming to play, haha." Trey's animal linguistics grade from freshman year was honestly atrocious, but the harried squawks that follow the attempt at pecking his eyes out probably aren't very kind. "Mind giving me a hand?”

Peacocks are a symbol of royalty and status all over the world, and for good reason— with their proud gait and striking colors, they exist in the collective imagination as nobility incarnate. Doubly so for those born in the Scalding Sands, where they're a staple in parades and celebrations; the patterns of their plumage embroidered into the lavish silks that best represent their markets; and their colours —purple and green— present in clothing, banners, and souvenirs, stand as an emblem of a beloved princess’s resourcefulness and wit.

And well, isn’t that enough? Someone ought to stop feeding their ego, because they’re also some of the most ill-tempered, hostile, pompous, egotistical, downright insufferable birds Jamil has ever had the displeasure of dealing with. 

—Although, on second thought, perhaps that wasn’t actually true; his encounter with RSU’s resident goose back at the beginning of the school year still stood among the highlights of unfortunate events that befallen him in the past semester. 

Then again, if the peacock's expression and angry squawks (ones which Jamil is fairly certain are the avian equivalent of brazen obscenities) are anything to go by, comparing its current state to that of RSU's bloodthirsty mascot back during orientation wouldn’t be completely off-base. 

He must act quickly— lest it devolve into carnage. The last thing Jamil needs is Scarabia’s menagerie inflicting injuries on another dorm’s vice-housewarden, so there’s no time to waste on greetings, apologies, or explanations. 

“Stay still,” he instructs, grabbing the first piece of fabric he finds close at hand. It’s an old towel —Is it his? Maybe Ruggie’s? It doesn’t matter now— which, with a quick swing of Jamil’s magipen, is lifted into the air, hovering over Trey (and the peacock by extension.)

@threadedwheels sent: MEAL : for both muses to prepare and share a meal together.

Ember knocked on the door of Jamil’s temporary residence, a box of tea in his hands. He fiddled with his sweater for a few moments before the door opened.

“…care to have some tea and maybe some lunch with me? I thought it would be a nice break, maybe you could tell me about your home since I have already taken up so much of your time writing about my own.”

A brief look of surprise flashes through Jamil’s eyes upon opening the door. 

“ Ember, hello, ” he says, expression settling on a genial smile. “ I’d love to, but—”

Rejecting an upperclassman’s amicable invitation would be remiss, but he has to do the laundry, iron Kalim’s clothes, read over his homework, prepare his meal and— Ah, there’s an idea.

« January Housekeeping » 

Waiting on me

» Trey; Ask prompt

» Ember; Ask mini

» Luciano; Midnight snack wrap-up

Waiting on partner

» None

Monthly Goal

» My main January goal is to earn at least 5 points for Scarabia before the end of the month. It may seem unlikely, but I am determined! I want to become more active and involved ic in the coming months.

» That, of course, ties in with my long-term 546-step plan to get Snake Whisper for Jamil before Chanel gets It’s a Deal for Azul. Step 254 obviously involves convincing Chanel to forfeit all of her points to Chade, but I won’t get ahead of myself. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. :chade: 

"As for your response, this is mostly why I have not been given offense to your skepticism during our letters." He seems to wave it off like it was nothing more than something that we would encounter at work. "The staff and students alike share a bit of the NRU spirit, after all." He extends the box to Jamil. "After hearing your discussion for athletics, I thought these would be appropriate for you."

If Jamil were to open the box, he would find a streetwear hoodie and pants! The two articles of clothing appear to be casual clothes with some subtle streetwear accents at first glance, but looking closer, the fabric for both of them seem to be predominantly mixed natural fibers for breathability and temperature regulation with the aid of synthetic fibers for flexibility and durability. As a result, the outfit could be able to go through a lot of wear and tear for a good number of years if maintained correctly against a lot of elements. There are also some simple side features that help with quality of life such as detachable sleeves for the hoodie and a hidden pocket on the side of the pants, but it still looks like it would be useful for several situations and circumstances regardless. Whether he opens it or not, Godel will say afterwards, "With your hobbies and your daily life, I thought it was best to give you something that could be used for your everyday use that can still cater to your hobbies, and to keep your body temperature consistent in the process."

There wasn't enough in the budget for sneakers, but it was better to have the most optimized in some things rather than the full set being hosh-posh and thrown around. Also, if his instincts are right, Jamil probably already has own set of sneakers for such an occasion.

Nodding at Jamil's reaction, he looks down to his watch. "Well, I will not take more of your time, but if you wish to discuss about anything, you can meet me during my office hours or drop off a letter at my door if I'm around campus. Or if you have a burning question, I could stay for a bit longer." He gives a small bow in the head. "And once again, happy holidays to you and may your loved ones be well today, as well."

Mortified. Jamil was mortified. Yes, ‘mortified’ was the most apt way to put it. When this exercise had been introduced— no, imposed upon them, he had wasted no time in preparing for the worst case scenario. Barring anyone with outright malicious intent, he was expecting being assigned to someone who would shield themselves behind the temporary anonymity to pull a ridiculous stunt. 

Each letter received had been examined in detail before opening. He’d held them against the light for one, two, three minutes, bracing himself for any unwanted surprises that might’ve awaited him…only to find seemingly non-conspicuous messages awaiting him. They’d been perfectly friendly, in fact. He should have, for all intents and purposes, responded to that kindness in turn.  

But life lived as someone else’s first line of defence against assassination attempts was bound to breed a pathologically cynical mentality. Figures. 

Unlike the letters he had penned for Ember, he simply couldn't endure not being the one holding the reins of the conversation. He’d written his responses, wary of every word, and resolute not to allow important details to slip. That is to say, nothing that could be used against him —or Kalim, or Scarabia as a whole— in the future.

Even if only for the sake of outward appearances, most freshmen wouldn’t question the chain of authority. Other sophomores could take his skepticism without taking offence. And in the scenario where it had been one of his seniors, he would simply bow his head and apologise for the discourtesy. Unless he had been paired up with someone especially difficult, his hostile behaviour would be overlooked. 

But how was Jamil supposed to know he would be assigned to a staff member? Moreover, the staff member in question had been exceedingly kind. (Perhaps too kind, he thinks, but that's a matter best left aside for the time being.) Now, Jamil almost found himself wishing it had been a troublemaker: for all of his preparations, he felt as though he had been made a fool out of regardless. 

Even if Godel bore no resentment or ill-will towards him now, he’d perfectly squandered the opportunity to improve his standing with a professor. It looked bad, no matter how you spun it. The gift he had been given was far more thoughtful than many his own parents had given to him in the past (Oh, a poison detection kit? Thank you, mom. You shouldn’t have. Really. You shouldn’t have) and Jamil finds himself at a loss for words. So he now enters damage-control mode, and quickly surveying his options, arrives at what seemed the most sensible solution. 

“I—” he starts, “Sir, is it really okay for me to have this? You’re…far too generous, this is…thank you, really. Excuse me for a moment.”

He walks back into the room, searches through his belongings, fishes out a ticket tucked away inside one of his textbooks, and presents it to Godel.