Ask to Join Karma High Reboot: Superpower High School Roleplay (Main Thread)

[DemonicHoneyBun]

Angus Bowie
Interactions: Marx @DemonicHoneyBun
Location: Classroom
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Embarrassed by his own Embarrassment he lightly hit his forehead off the desk. Only hard enough to cause a small sting, and no real damage to him or the desk. Angus himself lost in his own thoughts didn't notice the approaching boy.

Feeling a sudden jolt from his desk he let out a loud squeak. Suddenly hearing a pained groan he snapped up. Looking around, he finally noticed Marx getting up from the floor. Angus's mouth hung open before closing it. Barely registered the second person's words.

" I- I'm fine. But are you ok ? Sound like that hurt... alot. "

He slowly responded trying to process what to do about the situation.

“Trust me I’m all good, just a slight stinging pain in my sides is all. Nothing I can’t handle by ignoring it, you know?”

Marx chuckled softly, gritting his teeth as he felt a searing pain in the side of his body, attempting to play it off as well as possible. He placed a hand in Angus’s desk, while the other rested on the side he hit.

“Anyway I’m Marx, it’s nice to meet you… Angus right? I heard your introduction, your abilities sound pretty neat.”

 

[Inkage]

Petunia- PAMELA.

Pamela narrowed her eyes dangerously, watching her opposite respond with an air of a mother listening to a child babble.

"Pamela. SHOULD be easy enough to remember. And I refuse to be called the 'Mocha Menace'." Pamela did not mention the other nickname, as 'Bean Queen' had been Pamela's preferred name when she was younger. Not that Orion needed to know that.

She leaned slightly back from him as he continued to speak, already regretting starting this conversation. He moved on, musing about his reputation being a 'phoenix' and claiming that he'd live rent free in everyones' heads.

"Reputations and first impressions are important. For example, you'll always be the guy who jumped at the sight of a spider smaller than my pinkie nail." She held it up to his eye sight to emphasize her point. "Arachnophobia's a common fear, though. So in that respect you're as ordinary as anyone else," Pamela added.

Orion proceeded to wax eloquent about his powers, and Pamela smiled amusedly. On the one hand, Pamela's curiosity about powers compelled her to ask further questions. But on the other....Orion turned it into some sort of offer about a demonstration.

"That's all right. I'll be able to see what you're capable of at things like the tournament," Pamela said with a sort of bitterness and a sigh. Neither of her powers would help her in single combat much. She'd probably place low at said tourney.

"We'll have to study hard though. We won't have enough time to ogle at girls," Pamela said, building up to a pretense. "I saw you ogling Gwen earlier, during her intro. Like a starving man," Pamela said, as if this was the whole reason to talk to Orion; to tell him off for being unprofessional. While Pamela didn't honestly care that much, when Orion had so many other issues going on, Pamela thought that pretending she did would provide a nice cover for the clear animosity she had for him.

"Get serious. Surely your parents or whoever you live with didn't spend so much money to send you here, just so you could stare at girls," Pamela spat.

 

[MarcelGalliard790]

Samael and Marcel - Curiosity of the Duo De Dangers
Marcel turned his head towards the back of the room, only to find Pamela digging into Orion. Marcel’s eyes widened a bit at the tone Pamela had. Marcel had known Orion to be a bit overconfident, but to have it boil over to this extent was surprising. Marcel nodded to Samael as he got up and walked over towards Pamela and Orion. Marcel’s gently rested a hand on Orion’s shoulder.

“Orion.” Marcel started seeming more wise and more insightful. “It is natural to have a swagger to yourself. But you must be careful that a swagger doesn’t turn into an overconfidence. Then the overconfidence turns into an ego. Egos are something that people despise. Sometimes “walking the walk” and “talking the talk,” so they say, isn’t all that defines a person. It’s the character they show that describes who they are.” Marcel spoke to him with a sort of mentorship to him. Marcel then turned to Pamela as he began to address her.

“My apologies Miss for intruding on the conversation, I just had to let Orion have a little piece of knowledge from me. And I feel like it fit the timing of this interaction, perfectly.”

Samael watched the interaction with a surprised silence. He had known Marcel was wise and had a lot of weight on his own shoulders due to his royalty status. But, he never knew Marcel would use that to strengthen his own resolve. “Ну, я буду…I didn’t expect him to be this insightful to Orion.”
@RhythmThief (Orion)
@Inkage (Pamela)

 

[RhythmThief]

Orion

Orion leaned back further in his seat, arms draped over the backrest like a king upon his throne, positively basking in his own perceived triumph. Pamela’s irritated little remarks were only fueling his amusement. That was, until she pressed forward with her retort—casually slicing his whole “phoenix” analogy out of the air and setting it ablaze like kindling.

And that spider was way bigger than this cupcake's delicate little pinkie...!

He held firm, keeping his grin intact, though a flicker of irritation sparked beneath the surface. Oh, she was good. Too good. There was a sharpness behind those glasses, a knowing edge in her tone that made Orion begrudgingly realize he had to tread carefully. If there was the slightest crack in his armor, she’d pry it open without hesitation.

Still, he could keep playing this game. Or at least he thought so—until she brought up Gwen.

Orion froze for half a second, just enough for Pamela to know she’d landed a hit. The words ‘like a starving man’ hung in the air, and Orion felt an immediate impulse to deny, dismiss, deflect—

—but Gwen was only a few seats away.

The wrong move here and Pamela could easily drag his name through the mud before he even had a chance to establish himself as a legend. Orion vaguely recalled spotting Pamela at the cafeteria the day before, parked at the ‘hot girl’ table. That could mean one of two things: either she was a peripheral member—safe but inconsequential—or worse, the ‘gatekeeper’ girl. The one who decided which guys were cool and which were total creeps. And there were few words more damning than ‘creep.’

Well, except maybe ‘tax fraud.’ But if the IRS couldn't catch him back then, Pamela certainly won't now!

Composing himself, Orion’s lips curled into a slow, easy smirk.

“Pamela, Pamela, Pamela,” he mused, shaking his head as if scolding a mischievous child. “Now, I get it. You see me appreciating someone’s introduction, and you assume something scandalous. But I'm tellin' ya,” he leaned in ever so slightly, voice dipped into something smooth and assured, “I was just intrigued! Her power's interesting, don'tcha think? And, now that I think about it, I swear I’ve seen her before. Just had to jog my memory.”

He was about to keep spinning his web of effortless cool when—

A hand landed on his shoulder.

Orion turned his head, half expecting a classic Tsugikuni ‘I'm not mad, just disappointed’ shake of the head. Instead, he was met with Marcel’s wise, almost sagely expression. The princely boy regarded him with the weight of a man who had seen many a foolish young soul lose themselves to arrogance.

As Marcel finished his address, Orion blinked. Once. Twice.

‘...Damn. Where was this guy just before that last botched egg heist? Sure coulda used the inspirational speech back then!’

A lesser man might have taken this as a lecture. Orion, however, saw an opportunity.

He let out a laugh—carefree, easygoing, practiced. The kind of laugh that said, ‘This guy gets me.’ Clapping a hand over Marcel’s on his shoulder, Orion turned to him with a bright grin.

“Marcel, my man, that’s exactly what I’m talking about! You get it. See, I just want to make a good impression. First days are important, you know? So Pamela and I were just having some friendly back-and-forth, getting to know each other.”

His voice was warm, lighthearted. But as he turned his gaze back to Pamela, there was a distinct sharpness in his eyes. A challenge.

“Speaking of,” he continued smoothly, gesturing between them with a flourish, “Pamela, meet Marcel. Marcel, meet Pamela. I figure two people with such strong thoughts on reputation should get along just fine.”

Orion leaned back in his seat once more, still smiling. His words were honeyed, his expression the very picture of friendly intent. But the way he looked at Pamela said something entirely different.

Your move, Bean Queen.

Interactions: @Inkage (Pamela), @MarcelGalliard790 (Marcel)

 

[MarcelGalliard790]

Marcel Cromwell - Suspicions of the prince
Marcel narrowed his eyes at Orion, taking offense to his words being brushed off by him. But he shook his head and looked at Pamela as she was introduced.

“Ah. Nice to meet you, Pamela.” Marcel bowed in respect before looking at Pamela, and Then back to Orion. Marcel then looked back to Pamela. He still seemed suspicious about Orion. But he didn’t want to say anything where Orion could potentially hear them. So Marcel sneaked to the side of Pamela and cupped his hand and whispered.

“Is it true about you just having a little one on one friendly back and forth? I have a sneaking suspicion he isn’t telling the full story.”
@Inkage (Pamela)
@RhythmThief (Orion)

Samael Petrikov - Assassin and Wingman
Samael looked over at Fuyuko. Deciding it was now time to back up Marcel’s goal to be with Fuyuko. “Marcel and I have known each other for a long time. Trust me when I say, he’s good company. Even after my…incident…he still looked out for me.” Samael trailed off as he said incident. His hand brushing against his eyepatch. The memories of the operation…the way he had used his Reaperium form. Samael shook his head before looking at Fuyuko.

“B-Besides that. He’s got the best intentions, even if it means trying to knock someone down a few pegs.” Samael spoke and gestured his head to the little discussion between Orion, Pamela, and Marcel. “He means it to help someone balance out natural swagger and overconfidence.”
@Cmeriwether (Fuyuko)

 

[Inkage]

Pamela
Pamela grinned sweetly, enjoying the effects her words had on Orion. A flicker of annoyance flashed across his face, and Pamela felt satisfaction grow within her. A smug air surrounded her now, yet it lessened slightly as Orion seemed to recover. He came up with some flimsy cover about seeing her somewhere before.

Orion was good, but not as good as Pamela. Pamela recovered quickly.

"Oh, I see...So were you interested in the kid who lit the board on fire? Do you even remember his name? His display was equally enthralling, and it happened right before." She leaned forward, like an interrogator, and her expression seemed to say that she knew full well he wasn't paying attention.

She smirked. She had him in the corner now. Time for the final blow.

"Either way, I might've been inclined to believe you...If I hadn't heard about what you said to Asun-"

Pamela's planned deathblow was interrupted as she saw a princely figure turn towards them and put a hand on Orion's shoulder. She bubbled with anger inside, her assault being interrupted by- by....

Pamela racked her brain, and then remembered.

Marcel Cromwell. That's his name, she remembered. He's very regal, so what's he doing talking to us?

Marcel directed his first words at Orion, telling him off for being overconfident. Pamela almost laughed, but settled with simply covering her mouth with her hand. The princely man then turned to Pamela, and apologized for interrupting her conversation. She smiled at him nervously, not sure whether or not he'd be a threat. When Marcel was finished, Orion seemed a bit stunned. But then, suddenly, he laughed. Pamela lowered her hand, regarding him with a blank expression. She quickly arranged her expression into an elegant one, save for a quick glare thrown at Orion. Orion decided to switch the subject by introducing the two of them to each other. Pamela reluctantly acknowledged the artistry of this, and it made her slightly reevaluate her perception of Orion.

You're deflecting. People don't learn smooth deflecting naturally. Maybe you aren't as empty headed as I originally thought....

Pamela decided that it would be discourteous to ignore Marcel, so she waved at him. "It is a pleasure, Marcel," she said in an elegant tone, bowing slightly to match him. Then, just as Pamela was going to make a barbed comment about Marcel being more decent than Orion (tactfully, of course), Marcel leaned towards her and her heart fluttered. He cupped his hand and muttered,


“Is it true about you just having a little one on one friendly back and forth? I have a sneaking suspicion he isn’t telling the full story.”

Pamela sat, contemplating this sentence. Marcel was on her side, not his. Of course he was; Orion was the inelegant one in this situation. Pamela smiled inside. What to say here?

"Well..." She whispered, meeting Orion's eye as she cupped a hand around Marcel's ear. "He was creepily looking at a friend of mine...Might be a womanizer...I don't want anybody getting hurt, y'know?" Pamela sighed innocently. "You might want to keep a careful eye on him, Marcel...You seem like a trustworthy man, after all...You'd help me out, right?~" Pamela suggested, hoping Orion would be saddled with this staid individual. He couldn't get up to any trouble with Marcel hovering over his shoulder, now could he? Pamela was gleeful, the power of her position flowing through her.

She was on the fast track to success. Orion was on the fast track out the door. Could today get any better?


Pamela began to wonder who else needed to be taken down a notch. Surely this kid isn't the only one high on their own ego here, Pamela thought, unaware of the irony of these thoughts.

After all, the paving stones of success are the shoulders of the weak.

@RhythmThief @MarcelGalliard790

 

[MarcelGalliard790]

Marcel Cromwell - Surprises abound for the prince
Marcel’s eyes widened in surprise at Pamela’s words. Orion was…no…he had known Orion for being a little in over his head. However, for him to ogle at girls? Marcel then had to wonder…did he look at Fuyuko the same way?

“I’ll try my best to talk to him. But…it will be a tedious process.” Marcel tried to reassure Pamela. Marcel then turned to Orion. “Orion, I would like a word. Alone.” Marcel spoke with sternness in his tone. “I won’t say anything in here, but I must request that we talk outside the classroom.”

Marcel turned to Pamela silently and whispered. “If he looked at Fuyuko like that, It’ll be a lecture he’ll remember.” Marcel turned back to Orion. “Orion, seriously. I know that overcompensation is something that is a serious issue. Sometimes keeping self control is important. Also, controlling overconfidence.”
@RhythmThief (Orion)
@Inkage (Pamela)

 

[RhythmThief]

Orion

Orion leaned back in his chair, basking in the smoothness of his own deflection. Masterful. A chef’s kiss of social maneuvering. He’d have to treat himself to something sweet later—maybe a donut from the cafeteria.

Or, better yet, he could test his luck and portal to some bakery in Terrask. He hadn’t explored the city yet, but a few quick pictures of nearby places should be enough to make an educated guess. Worst case scenario, he’d end up… Well. Let’s not repeat the "bank vault incident." On second thought, yeah. Cafeteria it is.

However, his moment of self-congratulation came to a screeching halt as he caught a whispering exchange between Pamela and Marcel from the corner of his eye. Pamela was looking directly at him, murmuring something in Marcel’s ear like they were plotting his untimely demise. Orion's relaxed posture subtly shifted, his body leaning forward ever so slightly, an edge of concern creeping in. What the heck were they talking about?

Slowly, it dawned on him. Marcel didn’t buy the deflection. And before Orion could course-correct, the princely young man was already turning toward him with a look of disappointing nobility and asking for a word in private.

Great.

Orion sighed inwardly but maintained a mask of polite innocence, ignoring Marcel’s final remarks about overconfidence and self-control. His first instinct? Deny the request outright. Frankly, Marcel was starting to rub him the wrong way. Tsugikuni’s calm concern was cool. Marketable, even. The dashing explorer and his wise, worldly companion who tries to keep him in check? That’s a dynamic with profit potential. Plushies, posters, you name it.

But Marcel? This guy was high up on his horse—so high that Orion couldn’t even see him from the ground. And for what? Being suspiciously noble? Overstepping into conversations that weren’t his? No thanks.

But still… Orion hesitated. Flat-out refusing might draw even more attention. While he was starting to care less and less what Marcel thought of him, he couldn’t say the same for everyone else. Sometimes you have to pick and choose the splashes you make—and at this junction, any more ripples might turn into a tsunami.

Besides, on the off chance he did need something from Marcel later, outright stonewalling him now would just make negotiations a pain.

Instead, Orion played it carefully. He blinked in apparent confusion, looking around the class as if trying to figure out what he’d missed that warranted a private chat. Then, as though reaching a reluctant conclusion, he let out a small, good-natured chuckle.

“Well, if you’re willing to interrupt class just to get a word in, it must be important.”

He stood up, stretching slightly before turning toward Mr. Brooke, who—judging by his continued indifference—was entirely unbothered by students having full-fledged side conversations. Orion offered the teacher a sincere-sounding apology, promising they’d be right back.

Then, with a snap of his fingers, a portal shimmered into existence—leading right to the hallway where Tsugikuni had helped him with his, ahem, arachnid-oriented predicament.

He gestured for Marcel to step through first, all polite smiles and open gestures. "After you," Orion said smoothly.

As Marcel disappeared into the portal, Orion turned back ever so slightly, locking eyes with Pamela. He sent her a final, fleeting glare that practically screamed: This ain’t over.

Then, stepping through the portal, Orion clapped his hands together as it sealed shut behind them, cutting off the classroom noise entirely. The silence was instant. The world shrunk down to just the two of them.

Orion put his hands on his hips, tilting his head with an easy-going smile. "Alright, Marcel," he said, his tone casual but calculated. "What’s on your mind?"

A beat passed.

"...If this is about the pineapple on your dresser, I promise I can explain."

Inwardly, though? Orion was already running the numbers. Resistance this early in his conquest was inconvenient—but useful. The sooner he knew who’d be allies and who’d be obstacles, the better.

Pamela had made her position crystal clear.

Now, it was time to see where Marcel stood.

Interactions: @Inkage (Pamela), @MarcelGalliard790 (Marcel)

 

[MarcelGalliard790]

Marcel Cromwell - Patience of The Prince
“Pineapple…what? No.” Marcel sighed before he shook his head. “Orion. Listen. There are things you can and cannot do. Staring at women in a desperate way is one example. Because they’ll think of you as some kind of lecher. Lechery is not something that is admirable when it comes to a man. But…something is telling that this is all just a surface act. That, maybe you’re hiding something deeper. Maybe, I’m not saying it’s for certain.”

Marcel took a deep breath before resting his hand back on Orion’s shoulder. “Look, I want to bestow some knowledge upon you. It may seem that surface acts, trying to impress everyone and making a show. It can be useful at times. But, you mustn’t make that your main personality trait. If you do it could cause harm to others when you did not mean to. Including uncomfortable stares of a lecher. Orion, Self control is very important. I understand, so far, you want to make a big name for yourself. However, you must do so with a balance of natural swagger, self control, patient mindedness, and balance it all together.”

Marcel finished his words before looking at Orion. “I feel like you have some things you need to get off of your chest, my friend. So please, the floor is yours. It’s just us, so don’t hold anything back.”

@RhythmThief (Orion)

 

[RhythmThief]

Orion

Orion maintained a cool exterior, his face unreadable as Marcel launched into what might have been the most condescending speech he’d heard in a long time. Lechery? Desperate stares? Seriously? Orion had a lot of things to say about himself, but that wasn’t one of them. He stayed quiet, listening intently—not because he was actually taking Marcel’s words to heart, but because he needed to figure out exactly what Pamela had told him.

Bit by bit, the picture became clear. She’d painted him as some sort of desperate creep, an opportunist who couldn’t keep his eyes in check. It was ridiculous—almost laughable, if it weren’t so inconvenient. His mind ticked over the implications: if she’d already gotten Marcel to buy into this nonsense, how many more people would she whisper to? Orion inwardly sighed, irritation simmering beneath the surface. This was supposed to be fun. A game. A way to establish himself. Instead, he was already dealing with this.

Still, he kept his expression perfectly neutral, giving nothing away. By the time Marcel was done, Orion had figured out exactly how he wanted to handle this.

With a sigh, he shifted his weight, as if collecting his thoughts. Then, slipping into the role he needed to play, he looked Marcel in the eye and spoke with measured sincerity.

"Look, Marcel—I’m honestly not sure what Pamela told you, but I really don’t mean any harm," he said, his voice calm, almost exasperated. "This is just the way I am. I’ve always been confident, maybe a little over-the-top, sure—but that’s not something that’s gonna change anytime soon." He let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. "If my personality rubs people the wrong way sometimes, I get it. But that’s just who I am."

His tone turned slightly firmer as he continued, making sure there was no room for doubt.

"One thing I will say, though—I’m not a lecher. That’s just ridiculous. I’m interested in everyone in class, getting to know them, seeing what makes them tick." He lied.

"And yeah, some of them are girls. That’s kind of unavoidable, isn’t it?" He gave Marcel a look, as if questioning why they were even having this conversation. He crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly.

"I don’t know why Pamela is so dead set on slapping labels on me when we just met. But if I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was playing some kind of angle—turning people against me before they even get a chance to know me. Not sure why, exactly." He let the words linger in the air, their irony completely lost on him.

Then, with a good-natured chuckle, he added, "But hey, it’s water under the bridge, right? Just funny how quick you were to believe her over your own dormmate." He smiled, as if it didn’t actually bother him.

And then, something clicked.

Marcel had started out gentle, hadn’t he? There was patience in his words at first. It was only after Pamela—

Oh.

Of course!

How had he missed it before? Marcel’s wise, princely demeanor had only become forceful after the ‘lechery’ accusation came into play. Orion took a mental step back, analyzing the situation with fresh eyes.

There were two possibilities. Either Marcel was some kind of overzealous knight-in-shining-armor type, personally offended by the idea of ‘improper conduct’ in his presence…

Or, more interestingly…

Orion’s eyes gleamed with amusement as he broached the topic breezily, his tone light, his face unreadable.

"Say, there wouldn’t happen to be a girl in class you’ve got your eye on, would there?" he asked, as if it were just an idle curiosity. "If so, I totally get why the whole ‘lechery’ thing would bother you. I mean, if I were in your shoes, I’d be wary of competition too." He grinned, hands in his pockets, voice playfully conspiratorial.

"Tell you what—if it makes you more comfortable, I’ll make a conscious effort to keep my interactions with them brief. Of course… if I’m completely off the mark here, just forget I asked!"

With that, he leaned back slightly, as if the conversation was all in good fun.

But inwardly? Inwardly, he was done.

This had been amusing at first, but the scrutiny was getting old fast. He’d barely set foot in this school, and already he had people breathing down his neck. If Marcel wanted to throw his lot in with Pamela, then fine. Let them have each other. Orion had bigger things to do.

Interactions: @MarcelGalliard790 (Marcel)

 

[MarcelGalliard790]

Marcel Cromwell - Understanding and reflecting
“I see, Orion.” Marcel nodded as he listened to what Orion had to say. Marcel payed attention when Orion spoke to maintain some respect between them. “I just needed to understand both sides of the story. Before I should have made those baseless accusations. But…I still can’t help but feel like you’re not showing your true colors.” Marcel shook his head gently.

Then the question of an interest in a girl came and Marcel’s face became a faint scarlet, he was interested in a girl, Fuyuko. However, Orion probably thought he was interested in Pamela. “Not Pamela. But a different lady…” Marcel spoke, nervous to even say her name. He didn’t want Orion potentially getting between him and Fuyuko.

“It’s…personal. I can’t say. Not because I don’t trust you, no…it’s just…I value her for giving her time to talk to me, and I give my time to talk to her as well. We slowly are getting close and I don’t want anyone else to mess up our connection.” Marcel spoke with a soft tone, almost defiantly protective. “Her and I have had issues in our pasts. Mine…were more, about my title. It is not my place to talk about her issues, as it is not my story to tell.” Marcel spoke calmly and rationally as he then looked at Orion. “I know that there’s someone for you as well. Someone who gives those perfect butterflies inside your stomach.” Marcel smiled as he slugged Orion’s shoulder, not in a hurtful manner, but one to show comfortability between the two of them.

“I know it might be hard for people to accept others for who you are. But sometimes it’s…alright to shed a few layers and be you. So, Orion, if anything comes to bother you friend, I’ll listen to you. As a real friend should.” Marcel smiled as he looked at Orion. Hoping that he could change the atmosphere of their conversation a little bit. One now with friendship and respect.
@RhythmThief (Orion)

 

[D34N.U5R]

The Impossible Smart Guy
It'd been relatively quiet for too long, Dean decided. So guess what? He decided to hack into the PA system. Braedyn wouldn't mind, but he couldn't say the same for everyone else. The PA system was especially secure, to his complete, unfiltered, absolute, thorough, positive, proper, veritable, perfect, consummate, unmitigated, inveterate, congenital, full-bore, deep-dyed, apodictic, exhaustive, faultless, unabbreviated, unabridged, uncut, undocked, replete, integrated, outright lack of surprise, as he knew what had happened to his PA system when an especially horny teenager got hold of it. Still, he knew he could do it.

He pulled out a gadget that not everyone would consider useful and decided to use it to find a hole in the system that probably wasn't entirely there. To his lack of surprise, there was an extraordinarily tiny hole in the system. He could get in. He sent a bunch of fake requests to slightly expand the hole and got through said hole, and he finally had hold of the PA system. What would he do now?

Rickroll everyone for no reason other than their collective amusement, bemusement and sometimes confusion and irritation.

Not Paying Attention
Braedyn just looked around for a few seconds, then accidentally hid all evidence that Dean had hacked into the PA system in his pocket. A little too convenient, but hey, it's Dean and Braedyn, who are always conveniently close to each other. Who do we have to blame? Society, of course!

"I swear, if Dean hacked into the PA system just to do that... fuckin' hell," he sighed, not knowing that Dean actually had hacked into the PA system just to do that.

Spooder-Man
Miles, of course, was focused on Orion. How he was trying to deflect all the dislike of him. But that didn't matter. He and some royal demon pretty boy had left to talk. Now he had the chance to finally exist without someone berating him, like yesterday had gone.

Not that he thought Orion would berate him.

Oh well. Pamela was there. Might as well walk up and talk to her.

"Excuse me, do you know who hacked into the PA system?" he asked her, "No, I'm not testing you, this isn't Squid Game, I'm not the Front Man - I'm not even- actually, I'll stop there before I say something racist." He sighed again. Nice save, next Spider-Man, he thought to himself.

"But besides that, how's you're day going?" he continued, "Well, besides... that." ("That" meaning what happened with Orion not long ago)

@Inkage

 

[RhythmThief]

Orion

Orion’s neutral expression never wavered, but internally, he could’ve done a victory lap. Knew it! Marcel was already crushing on someone. He’d been hoping for a name drop, but honestly? The mere admittance was more than enough.

The way Marcel spoke about her—so soft, so protective—was way too much for someone he’d only just met. That meant all Orion had to do now was watch him for a couple of minutes back in class. His eyes, his posture—heck, even a slight shift in his breathing—would give him away.

It was almost too easy.

Orion gave a slow nod, feigning thoughtfulness, but his mind had already moved ahead several steps. Marcel’s mention of ‘issues’ between him and his mystery girl piqued his curiosity, but it was the bit about his title that really got his gears turning. Title? That wasn’t a word normal people just threw around, was it? Orion didn’t need to press further—he just let the pieces fall into place. Princely had always been a fitting way to describe Marcel, but maybe… too fitting.

Huh. Interesting. He made a mental note to keep that in his back pocket.

Then the topic turned to Orion’s own love life, and he barely stopped himself from cringing. Instead, he forced an awkward smile, as if caught off guard, looking just shy enough to make the moment convincing.

Butterflies? Please. The only person who could make Orion feel like that was whoever made those pulled pork sandwiches at that food truck near the station. He didn’t believe in soulmates. The way he saw it, love wasn’t some mystical, predetermined force—it was a game. There were plenty of people out there, all compatible to different degrees. The trick was finding one, putting in the effort, and boom—happily ever after. For him, though? The plan was simple: pick someone, turn on the charm, get so deep inside their head they couldn’t imagine life without him.

Effortless.

Marcel, meanwhile, had wrapped up his whole speech with some heartfelt talk about being a ‘real friend.’ And for the first time in this conversation, something twinged—so small Orion almost didn’t notice it.

Guilt.

He pushed it down, just like he always did. Was Marcel really this genuine? It seemed impossible. Nobody was nice for free. Not really. Maybe he wanted Orion to lower his guard, maybe he was trying to manipulate him—something. There had to be a reason.

That was what Orion told himself, anyway.

So, he smiled back at Marcel, as casually as ever. "Hey, thanks for that. It’s good to clear the air. I appreciate it, man." He clapped Marcel’s shoulder lightly—friendly, reassuring. "Let’s get back before Mr. Brooke decides to put us on cleaning duty or something."

He turned just slightly, and with the smallest, most imperceptible flick of his fingers, a portal snapped open behind him. He made sure to step through first, covering it up as best as possible. No sense making a scene.

Back in class, Orion barely had to take in the room before something caught his eye.

Oh, you have GOT to be kidding me.

Miles. Of all people. Standing by Pamela.

Orion bit back a laugh. They deserve each other, he thought, utterly amused. He slumped back into his seat, as relaxed and smug as ever—at least, outwardly. Another minor victory, another step forward.

And yet, something lingered.

Marcel’s words, that talk about shedding layers, about letting people in. It echoed in his mind, repeating like a song stuck on loop.

Nah.

Maybe Marcel could afford to do that. Maybe he had the kind of life where dropping the mask wouldn’t ruin him. But Orion? That wasn’t an option. Life had different plans for him. That was just how it was.

Orion took a slow breath, rolling his shoulders, shaking off the thought.

And just like that, he silenced the voice in his head—by disguising it with his own.

Interactions: @MarcelGalliard790 (Marcel)

 

[Inkage]

(Mod duties: Activate!)

Auditorium
Leery was never one for classical music. Don't get him wrong- Mozart, Satie, Bach- all great guys, sure. They made beautiful compositions. It was just that all of it was usually so depressing. Leery never understood it- where were the happy pieces? Didn't those three feel any joy at all?

Erik Satie's 'Je te veux' swam in his ears, bouncing off the walls and assailing Leery's ears. Leery toddled, calling out for the man he was looking for.

"Ey! Where you at? It's Leery!"

In response to his call, a brilliant plume of gold and white came diving from the ceiling, spreading white wings and swooping onto the floor in a graceful ark. The man's blond hair bounced on his shoulders.

"Heureux de te voir, monsieur Leery," he said, twirling one of his locks around his finger. "Care for a flight?"

"Some other time, some other time...I'm only here to make sure you're all nice and prepared- Ms. White would've come herself but she's busy. First day paperwork and all," said the puppet, sighing and dragging a clawed paw across his face. "Don't you have a class to teach? Why're you hanging around in the clouds?"

"Ah, I see you and Donna still have no faith in me," jested the winged man as he dropped to the floor. He gestured around to the tables laid out in perfect rows before a stage. "Nous sommes prêts- you should know that! You helped me out quite a bit, comme d'habitude! So what's the problem with a 'pre-class flight', hmm?"

"Well- formalities, you get it, Feathers...What if the students saw you lost in the clouds?" Leery said, puffing up his chest at the acknowledgment nevertheless. "At any rate, Ms. White said to tell you that she 'wishes you luck'- don't want a repeat of last year, do we? How long did it take you to get chiseled out of that ice shell?"

"Nothing will happen. Je promets! Since when have I let you down- any other time?"

Mr. Leery shook his head, mouth twitching almost into a smile.

"I don't know. I read the class list- between the flaming scythes, firey Scots, and gold dragon, you might have a hard time."

"It'll be fine! You can go in peace- I'll be careful," 'Feathers' assured Leery. Leery sighed in response.

The door burst open, revealing a red haired student who stopped, staring at the two of them. He mostly seemed to be staring at the glittery dragon, Leery.

Leery looked over at him, ending the conversation with one last line; "...For your sake and mine, I hope so. I'll be happy when the first day is over- always the most stressful."

With that, the dragon left the room, the angelic man waving him on with a smile.

Cinaed let the dragon by, now staring at the teacher.

"...Pretend you didn't see me, s'il te plaît, mon ami? I want a bold entrance."

Cinaed gave him a thumbs up, watching his teacher fly up in a swirl of feathers. He left behind a paper, and Cinaed picked it up. It was branded with a big number #1.

Cinaed didn't understand at first, but then he noticed that all the desks were branded with numbers. Assigned seating.

He grinned, and bounced into the no. 1 seat, waiting for his classmates. He didn't have to wait long, because a tall, graceful student walked in. The second student.

...

Pamela

Pamela was a bit disturbed by the vibe of the next room.

It was a graceful area, with tables artfully and meticulously scattered in front of a large stage. feathers also littered the air, fluttering yet not falling to the floor. They swirled like snow in the wind. What's more, classical music wafted from the rafters, enticing Pamela into a calm mood. Pamela ignored it, not wanting to be pacified right now.

It reminded her of a birdcage- and the music sounded to her like the dirge of a bird trapped for life. Pamela was not in a good mood.

Orion had seemed smug when he returned from his chat with Marcel. Had the two not argued, as Pamela thought they would? Or were the two simply masking it? What did Orion say about her to Marcel?

Pamela had thought about it for the rest of class, drowning out everything else. Eventually, the only thing that broke her out of her reverie was the bell ringing. Pamela had apparently been the first to arrive.

Or at least, Pamela thought so until she finished her scan of the room. An extremely diminutive boy sat clutching a paper, staring at her with curiosity.

"What number are you?" He asked, making Pamela confused. He seemed relaxed; at home, really. Pamela was perplexed by the way his eyes glittered, like the eyes of a little kid.

"I-I'm sorry?" She replied, about to ask him what he meant. But a paper fluttered onto the side of her face. Pamela flinched, taking it and looking at it.

It had a bright number written on it, in fancy calligraphy. Impressive writing, really. #5.

"The number on your paper! All the desks have a number on them," the redhead replied, brandishing his number 1. "Ah," replied Pamela, still off a beat because of the odd vibe of the room. "Thank you for letting me know, uhm...." Pamela racked her brain for his name.

Right. Cinaed Allen.

"Cinaed. Thank you."
"It's nothin'!"

With that, Pamela looked across the room and found her desk. Four seats per table. 9 tables. Cinaed was seated in the front left, and Pamela's seat was in the front middle.

Interesting.



(I want Isolde to be later so she's not being added here)


(There are 3 rows of 3, equaling nine desks. There are 4 chairs to a desk, equaling 36 chairs. Everyone gets a number; 1-36. I don't know- it seems to be the seat layout for this class intended from the previous iteration, so I recycled it here. I'll explain it more in the other thread.)

 

[MarcelGalliard790]

Marcel - New Environment
Marcel looked around the new room, seeing how the desks and chairs were formatted into small circles. Marcel smiled at the classical music playing in the background, it reminded him of home in a small way. But Marcel noticed the paper near him, he turned it over and noticed the number 12 written on it. He looked around the tables to find his number. Eventually finding himself on the upper right most corner of the tables. He sat in his seat, turning back to see Samael, wondering if he had a similar seat near him.

Marcel, looked over, seeing Fuyuko and his heart leaped at seeing her again. She had that effect on him, he noted that. He pulled out his sketchbook and continued to work on some sketches of him and Fuyuko before anyone else could come over.

Samael - Assassin seperation
Samael looked at his paper, and then to Marcel and shook his head no. Before walking towards the left middle table and taking his seat at Number 13. He hoped that his table will at least be somewhat tolerable. He kept his eye down so no one could notice him. He liked to keep to himself, as he looked around the room, he unhooked one of his scythes and began to look at it, feeling the cool of the obsidian edge.

His fingers traced the cracks of the scythe as he felt some of the hidden heat underneath it. His eyes glowed a faint orange, which was blended with the red of his eyes. ‘I can’t wait to show everyone what I’m truly capable of.’ Samael thought to himself as he looked up and at the others in the room.

 

[RhythmThief]

Orion

The teen strutted into the Power Control auditorium, Tsugikuni at his side, still riding the high from earlier. Checkmate, Pamela. His scheme had gone perfectly, but that whole ordeal had also been a wake-up call—he’d have to be more careful. Not just around her, but everyone.

The board was still setting up, and it was too early to tell who’d be a pawn, an ally, or an outright obstacle on his way to being the undisputed king of Class...whatever their name was.

That said…for now? He was vibing.

He glanced at Tsugi, grinning. “Alright, but hear me out—what if the school has a secret underground fight club, and that’s where they send all the kids who mysteriously disappear after week one?”

Before he could enjoy his own ridiculous theory, though, the moment they stepped into the classroom, the atmosphere silenced him.

Orion blinked, pausing just inside the entrance. Well, damn.

It was…graceful.

The room was meticulously arranged, tables spread across the space in a deliberate 3x3 formation. Feathers floated through the air, drifting like snowfall but never touching the ground. Above them, classical music played, its refined notes weaving through the space like an invisible presence. The whole thing felt almost like stepping into some grand old theater.

For once, Orion found himself impressed.

“Well, whoever’s behind this sure has a sense of style,” he murmured, eyes sweeping across the room. He wasn’t usually one for the dramatic - at least not from other people - but even he could admit theatrics like this had flair.

His gaze landed on the students already seated. That orange-haired guy with the weird vaguely European name was sitting a few seats down from Pamela. Meanwhile, some dude with an eyepatch wasn’t far from Marcel.

Orion’s eyes flicked to Pamela, and immediately, he stuck his tongue out at her before strolling forward. No way was he sitting anywhere near the Mean Bean Queen.

As he walked, something brushed against his face.

He grabbed it, turning it over. A slip of paper, his seat assignment.

#22.

“Nice, my 22nd favourite number...” he muttered, flicking a breezy two-fingered salute to Tsugi before making his way toward his spot.

Rightmost table, middle row.

Sliding into his chair, Orion leaned back with all the comfortable arrogance of a guy who belonged exactly where he was. Arms folded behind his head, feet kicked up onto the table, he let himself settle in.

The music was a bit stiff, sure—but hey, even a guy like him could appreciate a little refinement.

Now, let’s see what this class had in store.

 

[Cmeriwether]

Fuyuko Redtail “What’s going on with me? I feel stuff…”

As Fuyuko listened to Samael, she had watched Marcel go over, noticing a boy, with darker skin than herself, and purple eyes. She was confused as to why Marcel was talking to him, did he do something wrong? She then Heard Samael speak. She listened to what Samael had to say. Fuyuko was surprised, not having expected to hear what he had said. That was relieving to hear. She wondered why he was doing that. However the bell snapped out of her thoughts.

At the auditorium, Fuyuko had gotten there to see a couple of students already there, as she walked up to the teacher, a piece of Paper flew up into her hands, as she looked at it, she saw the Number Nine. She wondered who she was going to sit with, hopefully Marcel or someone else she has talked to. She was thinking over how she was going to explain her Takeover if she had to. As she took her seat, she looked around to see the redhead her sister talked to the day before, Cinead, if her memory of introductions was to be correct. As she looked around, she saw at least one other student. This class was going to be interesting, especially if she could use her Takeover power, but she might save that for other things. However, her Breath Weapon might be good for Demonstration here, as opposed to home room, she was unable to use it due to the constraints of the classroom.

Asuna Ryugetsu- “How am I not going to fog up the entire place?”

As The Bell Rang, Ryugetsu Asuna had started her way towards the next class, lightly steaming as she walked. Those behind her could see the trail she left behind, as she walked through the halls, she noticed various students, and eventually others as she walked through and got to the classroom, or rather, the large Auditorium that this class was taking place. She looked around before a paper landed at her feet a bit wet due to her steam trail. When she got it to open after she picked it up, it revealed her assigned seat for the class. Seat number Eight, which was an interesting seat for her. She sat down and thought about who would take the seats around her, as she saw someone else at the table, a brown haired girl with blue eyes, Pamela, from earlier, as Asuna shut off the steam, she felt a sudden burst of energy from being simply around this girl. She wondered about that.

“Hello, I am Ryugetsu Asuna, I am Seat Number Eight for the class, it seems we’re at the same set of seats,”

@Inkage (Pamela)

Shieldson Siblings “Gina has a sneaking suspicion…”

As the Shieldson Siblings headed out of class, Gina was wondering about what Braedyn had his friend Dean say to him. Omar was surprised at the amount of utter chaos those two could cause in such a short amount of time. From what Omar could see from his vantage point, combined with what he heard in the hallways as a passerby, he was Forty Percent sure the one had placed something on another Boy’s arm, if he heard that correctly, that was Orion, and he didn’t notice for a while, until another boy by the name of Tsugikuni Ginhoshi, seemingly sliced what turned out to be a Mechanical spider on Orion’s arm in half, without so much as touching Orion. If that was true, Omar was somewhat impressed. He also heard various introductions, such as a guy named Marcel with Brimstone Magic of some kind, and the cute girl with the eyepatch explain her power, which has something to do with eyes. Omar had an ocular based ability in Analytics. As the two arrived, The door opened to see several students taking seats already as suddenly a paper came flying towards Omar, who immediately dodged the flying paper and snagged it out of the air. As Gina saw the paper, it landed on her head.

Both opened their papers to reveal their assigned Seat Numbers. Gina headed off to seat Nineteen as Omar went off to seat Sixteen. As Gina arrived to her seat, she sat down, thinking how her powers could be shown off, as she couldn’t exactly use Structural Analysis without potentially hospitalizing herself. As for Omar, he’d have to ask for a volunteer for most of his powers, as he sat down, he looked around the room to see what was all around him.

Melanie Redtail “Please, go well for me…”

When Melanie left class, she had gone a different direction from Fuyuko. As she walked, she was thinking about how people were interacting, and how she was going to display her power if called upon, which spirit would be picked for Demonstration, probably The Unifier, if not, The Conductor. As she entered the room, a piece of paper landed in her hand, telling her where to go for seating, Seat four. She then took a seat and looked around the room, seeing Cinead. Melanie gave a small smile as she looked at him for a moment before looking down at her desk to think.

‘I wonder how this class is going to go, and how Fuyuko will fare as well, especially with her powers.’

@Inkage (Cinead)

 

[Inkage]

Cinaed
Cinaed kicked his legs happily, waiting to see who his seat mates would be. Someone approached his table; someone familiar. Cinaed gasped with excitement.

"Melli!" Melanie sat at the other end of the table, but seeing as how nobody was sitting between them, Cinaed decided to sit besides her for the time being. He slid smoothly across two seats, plonking himself right next to her.

"Don't think you can just get off with a smile!" He said jokingly. "I wanna hear a hello! Bright and sunny!" Analyzing her expression, his grin dimmed slightly.

"Are you doin' alright? Or are ya just thinking? That's probably it- so how's your day going so far then? What do you think'll happen in this class?"

"It's going to be fun sitting with you this year! I hope the other two seats are filled with good people, too!"

@Cmeriwether

Pamela Oswald
Pamela was still analyzing the room when someone walked up to the table. Pamela analyzed them, and remembered that they had met last night.

What was her name? Right- Asuna.

"Hello, Asuna! Good to see you again. Sleep well?" Pamela was not particularly happy to see her, since their powers combined in such a hostile way. But Pamela supposed that it'd be fine- as long as Asuna was careful. Besides- Asuna seemed the meek type. Easily steamrolled over.

"I met that boy you were talking about yesterday," Pamela said, deciding to use the opportunity to fuck Orion's reputation some more. "He didn't seem very nice," she said softly; it was hard to want to speak out loud in a room like that. The graceful atmosphere made Pamela feel like talking was disturbing it.

"Just saying. Not judging or anything," Pamela added, in case Asuna got mad. "Y'know what, let's go back to the first question- did you sleep well?"

@Cmeriwether

Isolde Barley

Isolde banged her fists against her cheeks lightly, reliving the moment she told that joke over and over.

Why in the world did she tell it!? It was trite- unfunny! It didn't even have a real punchline- the joke was the irony! Even if it did make them laugh, Isolde still didn't think that was worth it.

Isolde resolved not to talk at all in the next class- no matter what.

Little did she know this plan would be ruined.

The moment she entered the room, she gasped softly. It was elegant- quaint. It reminded Isolde of her room at home- and classical music floated in the air, carrying feathers that twirled gracefully like dancers.

Isolde liked this room.

A piece of paper floated towards Isolde, so deliberately that she reached out for it on instinct. It had a large #23 on it. Looking around, Isolde noticed a handful of students in the room- including Orion.

Her breath became more and more shallow as she tried to find her seat- her walk came closer and closer to him, almost like a pronouncement of doom. She stopped breathing entirely when she saw her number branded on the table- in front of a seat right next to him.

Isolde felt a mixture of emotions. Relief, anxiety, and a small bit of rage all swirling in a blender inside her head.

Him.

Isolde inched up like Orion was a pig monster, waiting to spear her on one of his tusks. She sat down tentatively, eyeing him.

Maybe he didn't remember last night? Or maybe he thought it over, and decided that Isolde wasn't really that impressive?

After sitting in silence for a couple of seconds, Isolde cleared her throat and mumbled,

"....Hi."

"...."

"...I d-don't really plan to st-strangle you...Like I s-said l-last night."

"...And...."

"....It's s-sort of nice t-to sit next t-to someone I know, I g-guess..."

"....B-But you're still in the dog house! Don't t-think I've forgiven you...Y-You tried to m-make me socialize. AND you challenged a Takahashi in my name...!"

@RhythmThief

 

[Gold The Dragonite]

Gwen
Interactions: Isolde (@Inkage) Orion (@RhythmThief)

Gwen was taken aback the moment she stepped foot in the auditorium, the atmosphere being simply serene. The feathers leisurely drifting through the air, the melancholic classical music in the background—the lavish ambience felt like a persuasion to start waltzing, like it was a ballroom from a period drama.

Nevertheless, she was lost in her own world, the haunting melody admittedly soothing her soul, as intended. A piece of paper swaying from above snapped Gwen out of her trance, plucking it out of the air as it swished before her. She flipped it around—#21. She glanced at the desks, eyes eventually landing on the seat with the same number. She started strolling over, taking mental notes of who was sitting where and further analyzing the area their next class would take place. Her gaze drifted to who she would be sitting with for the rest of class: a blonde with a shimmering halo, and—

Orion...

"Benefit of the doubt," Gwen justified in her mind as she neared the table. So far, her impression of him...hasn't been the most positive, but that was formed from second-hand experiences. The two of them have never actually spoken, and she herself has had several first impressions take a turn for the worst; she'll have to make her own judgment. Flashing a smile, Gwen sat down in her assigned seat, taking a review of the two already situated at the desk, starting with the blonde.

"Hi! I'm sorry, I don't think I caught your name in homeroom, but I just wanted to say your halo is so cute," Gwen hoped she hadn't intruded while giving her compliment. She gave off a timid vibe, Gwen catching the tail end of her begrudgment towards Orion—it hadn't sounded malicious, though Gwen hadn't anticipated someone like her to have a history with Orion. He really did get around...

Speaking of: on to him. Her hands clasped together on the table, sapphire eyes willingly locked onto his purple peepers, smile sharp and sweet. "And the man of the hour, every hour—Orion, right? Made quite a name for yourself in only two days! I'm Gwen, by the way, if either of you didn't catch it in homeroom. How have your days been so far, you two?"

Andrew

Andrew arrived at the auditorium, the classical music being...a choice. An unpleasant feeling resided within him, eyes flicking around the room before he took notice of a sheet of paper, freely fluttering in the air. He tilted his head to the side, avoiding the inevitable collision with his face—but he almost didn't catch the large #7 printed on it. How lucky. He turned around, snatching it out of the air before it hit the ground. Looking for anything extra on the back, Andrew wandered over to the middlemost front table, taking a seat on the chair with the same number as the paper.

As he did, another unwelcome wave of energy invaded his body, evoking a disconcerting vigor compared to the mild discomfort from entering the auditorium. He took in the strange café scent while taking a brief glance at his seatmates: the redhead he passed on the first day (Asuna, as he now knows her, thanks to his sister) and the brunette Gwen sat next to in homeroom. Seeing as they were already talking, he'd let them do their thing. Andrew quietly resigned in his chair, staring at the center of the table until class would start, his foot incessantly tapping against the ground underneath the table.

Arielle

Arielle trudged into the large hall, blindfold back on as the green swarm around her served as her sight. Homeroom wasn't so bad, but judging by the people already sitting down, it was assigned seating... Isolde was already at a table and there was only one chair left. A piece of paper glided down onto the floor, Arielle picking it up and taking notice of the large #15. The emerald particles whizzed through the air, allowing Arielle to take in the auditorium's arrangement. After locating the corresponding seat, the blindfolded girl navigated her way towards it, the green swarm returning to her. There were already two boys there, each giving Arielle a new sense of trepidation as she hoped the teacher would show up soon. She tried her best to not draw any attention to herself while meekly sitting down—especially from the one inspecting his scythe...

 

[MarcelGalliard790]

Samael Petrikov - Assassin’s curiosity piqued
Samael looked over at the others at his table. Primarily the one with the eyepatch. “Oh, my apologies. I didn’t realize I would have company this soon.” Samael spun his scythe behind him before attaching to the scythe holsters on the back of his cloak. “Arielle, correct?” Samael spoke as he looked at Arielle. “As a more formal introduction, I’m Samael.” Samael spoke as he then noticed the blindfold on her eye.

Samael leaned in a bit to look at the blindfold. Observing with a distance, but still enough to intrigue Samael. “Hmm. Your eye. Seems it has possibly sustained a form of…injury?” Samael pulled back a bit to look at Arielle. “You and I both seem to guard our secrets well.” Samael spoke as he looked at Arielle. “Sorry, I shouldn’t ask. It isn’t my place to ask about your personal experiences if you don’t feel like sharing them
@Gold The Dragonite (Arielle)

Marcel Cromwell - The Prince and his date sharing a table
Marcel looked around the room, wondering who would be joining him at his table. That was, until he noticed Orion sitting at the table next to him. Marcel turned his head and looked at Orion. Quickly addressing him as a form of small talk.

“Orion. I meant what I said in the hall. I’m open if you need someone.” Marcel left his comment in the air for Orion. Before his attention would then be turned to Fuyuko, who arrived at his table. “Fuyuko! Oh my goodness. I didn’t expect you to be at my table.” Marcel smiled as he spoke, a faint red forming on his cheeks. “I’m…glad that you’re at my table.” Marcel then noticed that Samael was talking to one of the people at his table. Smiling gently, Marcel turned his attention to his thoughts. ‘Powers huh? Do I show…it? I…don’t want to frighten Fuyuko. But, it must be done for her to know.’

@Cmeriwether (Fuyuko)
@RhythmThief (Orion)

 

[RhythmThief]

The Day of Fate

Orion’s posture didn’t shift an inch when Marcel’s voice cut through the classical air. He was still leaned back in his chair, all lazy confidence and relaxed swagger—but his mind snapped to attention the second the words registered.

“Orion. I meant what I said in the hall. I’m open if you need someone.”

There was a beat of silence—brief, but undeniable. The kind of moment that made you blink and double-check if you heard right.

Orion glanced over, eyebrows subtly lifted, then smoothed his expression into that easy smile of his.

“I appreciate it, man,” he said with a nod, tone light but not dismissive. “Good to know I’ve got someone in my corner.”

Marcel turned away soon after, eyes already gushing toward the new arrival at his table—but Orion’s lingered for a few moments longer, watching him.

Looks like we know who he's losing sleep over, Orion thought, looking at Fuyuko. But to think he’s still going on about that stuff in the hallway...

It was starting to seem less like a calculated peace offering and more like…genuine concern. Friendship, even.

Huh.

He didn’t know how to feel about that. Sincere people always felt like the ones who'd get hurt fastest. Still, Orion logged the moment. Marcel was either a master manipulator playing the long game or—less likely but possible—actually as kind as he appeared.

That thought was cut short by a familiar voice approaching his table—nervous, soft, and stuttering like a shy drumline.

"....Hi."
"...."
"...I d-don't really plan to st-strangle you...Like I s-said l-last night."
"...And...."
"....It's s-sort of nice t-to sit next t-to someone I know, I g-guess..."
"....B-But you're still in the dog house! Don't t-think I've forgiven you..."

Orion turned with a grin already stretching across his face. Isolde.

“Pfft—guilty as charged,” he laughed, eyes sparkling with amusement. “But come on, you have to admit it was a little bit iconic. The 'Barley Bunch' ? Mwah, masterpiece. And that Takahashi girl? She had ‘needs to be humbled’ written all over her.”

He shrugged. “ Plus, I had to show off your powers. They're way too cool to just leave under wraps.” His voice lowered conspiratorially. “Everyone loves an underdog story, anyway. Or in this case, a girl-with-funky-eyes-and-a-halo story.”

He smirked. “I’d promise never to pull another stunt like that again, but…” Orion trailed off, winking, the silence completing the sentence for him.

Then, tilting his head thoughtfully, he added, “Oh—your cat like the bed? I’m assuming it was for a cat and not, like, a high-end hat box or something.”

Before he could go off on a tangent about whether or not she’d ever tried pawning off her halo for some spending cash, fate intervened.
And she walked in.

Gwen.

Orion’s thoughts full-on screeched to a halt as she approached. Tall, striking, with eyes like cut sapphire and a walk like a slow-motion rom-com entrance. Thank you, gods of drama and romance. This was karma for dealing with Pamela. His reward. His stage.

This is it. Showtime.

He was just about to gear up when he glanced at Isolde again—nervous, small, stammering. Like a little lamb. A precious flower! A baby bird! A porcelain doll! She couldn’t witness this. Not this. She wasn’t ready!

With a quiet, almost solemn sigh, Orion cast a gentle, almost parental look toward Isolde.

Fear not, my sheltered young friend. You shall be spared my full power...for now.

As Gwen reached the table and greeted Isolde with a compliment, Orion played it cool. Nodding along, he smiled and gestured for Isolde to introduce herself, figuring a little nudge would help her socialize more without pushing too hard.

And then Gwen’s gaze turned to him.

"And the man of the hour, every hour—Orion, right? Made quite a name for yourself in only two days! I'm Gwen, by the way, if either of you didn't catch it in homeroom. How have your days been so far, you two?"

Orion grinned, leaning back just slightly more, hands still behind his head. “That’s me,” he said smoothly. “Guilty as charged…again.”

He chuckled, adding with a lopsided smile, “If a girl as cute as you’s already heard of me, I must be doing something right.”

...Immediate regret.

His brain did a record scratch as he realized how hard he’d just fumbled the chill.

“I mean—cute like, uh… adorable! Like a…a seal! You know, those round ones with the big eyes? Not saying you look like a seal, I mean, obviously, you’re—you look great, I just meant—!”

He gave up. Hands lifted in mock defeat, Orion shook his head.

My charm is just…too natural! I can’t turn it off!

But then he stole another quick glance at Isolde—nope. Must reel it in. For the good of the child.

Trying to pivot the conversation before he dug his grave deeper, Orion cleared his throat and offered Gwen a grin.

“Anyway! Yeah, the day’s been…eventful, to say the least.”

He turned suddenly to Isolde, finger guns practically loaded.

“R-right, Isolde? How’s your day been??”

The forced enthusiasm was palpable. He needed a distraction—and fast.

And hopefully, anything she said would buy him time to recover from that verbal car crash.

[Interactions: Marcel @MarcelGalliard790 , Isolde @Inkage , Gwen @Gold The Dragonite ]