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X-Men: United (IC, Rated M)

Synthet

Synthet

    • 422
    Posts
    12
    Years
    • Age 36
    • Seen Jun 11, 2019
    X-Men: United

    ((For further information on this roleplay, please view the OOC thread. This roleplay is by invitation only.))
    ​




    This was going to be an interesting class. No doubt about that.

    A Therianthropic. Heightened senses, reflexes... the usual deal, with a nice dose of transformation thrown in. He could apparently go anywhere from a baby version of Sabretooth to something potentially much tougher to handle. Hard to gauge where his potential lay without first hand experience, but even if he did 'hulk out' his strength shouldn't be difficult to contain. Provided she had the juice.

    An Aquakinetic. No ability to transform into water, so not a Hydro-Man deal. If there was going to be any guarantee of effectiveness in the field then he would need to carry a water supply with him, which could be awkward. She hadn't encountered one in person before, so her concepts of how to help him were limited. Hopefully meeting the boy would help with that.

    A... well, she wasn't sure what the term for this was. He could make things moldable by maintaining contact with them - that was a new one on her. Field applications ranged from utterly useless to genuinely frightening. She made a mark next to his name - she would have to give a lot of thought in where his training would take him.

    A self-replicator. Ugh, as if there weren't enough copies of Multiple Man running around there was going to be a new kid getting his clones underfoot. There were one or two tests to run with him to see the extent of his power, but she already mostly knew how she would help the boy. Provided he could keep a lid on his powers - Jamie had gone nuclear once or twice in the past.

    Now this was interesting. At first glance this girls ability seemed very familair. Metallic skin. She had sparred with Colossus once about a year back, and she wasn't entirely sure her head wasn't still ringing. They would have to test just how strong this metal was - maybe it was even the same as the kind Colossus had. But she also produced heat when transformed? If that could be harnessed this young girl could become very powerful indeed. But if she lost control... she may prove difficult, even for her.

    And Sand Mimicry, that could be interesting. With any luck she may be able to arrange an extra class or two with Dust, provided she could get a hold of her. It brought up the disturbing question of what would happen if their... particles... got mixed up, but best to let the sand girls themselves worry about that. Her profile said she had a level head, that couldn't hurt with keeping the class running smooth. And eventually the team.

    Sighing she set the papers down on the desk and walked behind it, leaning her back against the whiteboard. She'd had to fight for this room - Beast had booked it weeks ago for a Biology class. For all his smarts it had taken a painfully long time to make him see why she could not hold class in a room with a blackboard, she needed a whiteboard. Stars and garters indeed.

    The students should be arriving any minute, and when they did they were in for a sight. Even she had to admit she was unusual looking - even for a mutant. The main problem was that you couldn't see her. She wasn't invisible, she had an altogether different problem.

    As they arrived they would see her quite clearly against the whiteboard - or rather, they wouldn't see her. The space immediately around her seemed to be darker than the rest of the room, as if the light was having trouble permeating the air around her. As for the woman herself, she was entirely and utterly black, her skin was dark as pitch. And it was all uniform, her eyes were black spheres, her fingernails were the same colour and shade as the rest of her body - there was no way to tell one part of her body from another except by shape. It was impossible to see her facial expression as her facial features couldn't be made out. There was just the occassional sense of movement. Even when she spoke it seemed that the inside of her mouth - her teeth, tongue and gums - were all that exact same black colour.

    The truth was that she was impossible to see because she was absorbing light so efficently that she failed to reflect any of it. To the eye, she was a space where light could not escape, and was thus impossible to see. She was a living silhouette. Thankfully her clothes reflected some light, so she didn't appear to be naked. She was dressed in a dazzlingly white pant suit, which should have stood out glaringly against her obsidian skin. But the field of poor light around her detracted from the clothes, making them seem darker than they were.

    She was of average height - that much at least could be seen. Her body shape against the whiteboard made it clear she was trim, but there was no way to tell if she was athletic, muscled, underweight... just that she wasn't large. She seemed to be entirely bald, or have very close cut hair, as the shape of her head was clear. A side view helped to show that she was reasonably well endowed, but the difficulty in making out any details of her appearance made it difficult for most people to find her attractive.

    Except truckers. Truckers loved her. Must be because of the woman on the mudflaps.

    The files told her that none of these kids had developed any obvious physical mutations - at least not yet. Hopefully her appearance, or lack thereof, wouldn't make any of them uncomfortable. They had all been here for at least a few days to let them settle in before class began and so would have had plenty of opportunity to see the other students, and even a few X-Men. This would be their first class, and the only one marked down for today, simply titled "Orientation".

    Any minute now...​
     
    Come to me, crash for me, and sink into my sea...

    Things had been unusually calm for Boyce LeBreau since his arrival at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. No, despite his constant array of nerves and a tendency to burst water bottles, things were pretty calm. His roommate was more of a nervous wreck then Boyce, which was a surprise to him, and the combination of the nerves between the two of them had cause quite a few interesting issues. That was just one side of things, however. Boyce had done his share of wandering around the campus since he had arrived, finding the water sources and doing his usual water tricks to pass the time. Xavier's was a drastic change, albeit a good one that had taught Boyce a certain comfortable calm within himself. Around every corner and in every room in the mansion there was a different story to be told, with a rainbow of different powers and abilities. There were no soccer fields, nor were there any baseball diamonds to make Boyce more familiar with his surroundings. Sure, if he looked hard enough he was sure that he could find one... Did he want to, though? This was meant to be a new beginning for Boyce; it was meant for him to finally embrace the powers that had manifested inside him at 17, with no more running. No more fear.

    So here it goes.

    It was finally here: Orientation day. There had been ample amount of time for Boyce to read over the syllabus, and that was just what he had done. When he wasn't trying to get a grip of his powers, he was reading and trying to prepare himself for what the new journey was going to be. There was a constant stream of mutants all over the grounds, some that he recognized and some that he did not. Of the mutants he saw, there was no way for him to know which would be his future classmates. Did that make Boyce nervous? Absolutely. He had always been shy, but the nerves now were worse. Water bottles were bursting left and right, showers were malfunctioning in his presence, and if there was a tidal wave that was going to wipe away part of Xavier's... Boyce would probably be behind it. Boyce's aqua manipulation was beginning to make more sense to him, but there were still things that he didn't (and probably wouldn't) get when they happened. For one, Boyce could stop the water around him from swirling into anything major if he was calm, but in any cliche, that went up the creek when he lost his temper. He was in every sense lethal around water. Could that be helped?

    Dressing himself in his array of bright colors, Boyce had to take a deep breath. He could hear the bottles of water exploding in the mini fridge, his cheeks turning a rosy red. Would this ever end? His roommate was not around, and he hadn't truly seen him for a few days anyway, so for now he wouldn't deal with the water situation. The green shirt he had on matched his eyes, at least for the moment, and the rosy red color slowly left his cheeks. It wouldn't be that bad... Right? And if it did, well, there were more experienced mutants around to get things under control if it got to bad. Boyce was in good hands. Hands he didn't know, nor that he was familiar with, but for now it would have to do. New world, new beginning, new everything...

    "Just breathe, Boyce. Get yourself together partna."

    The walk from his dormitory room to the classroom for orientation was a short one. Along with a bottle of water for comfort reasons, Boyce was slowly finding his way into a quieter and calmer zone in the mental side of things. Passing mutants would speak, and although he would nod his head and smile, that was all his nerves would allow. He had his syllabus papers clinched tightly in his left hand, his water bottle in his right, and his focus had him roaring full-steam ahead. His thoughts were a jumbled up mess, almost like the ocean in the middle of a perfect storm... From his wardrobe, to his hair, to his accent, to his instructor... There were so many things to process and Boyce was barely processing any of them. In terms of his instructor, her (at least he thought it was a her) name was listed at the top of the syllabus. Emigre. It was an intriguing enough name, right? Boyce himself had decided to go back to his French-Cajun roots, donning himself with the name Les Ouragan, or "The Hurricane". It had just felt right, after the comedy of events that occurred his senior year. Yes... The Hurricane he would be indeed.

    "Hello? Is anyone here? I do believe I'm in the right place...?"

    And that was when he noticed. In all his marveling of the classroom upon his arrival, he had ignored that there was indeed someone present. Someone rather peculiar, in fact. Surely his eyes were playing a trick, right? There was a black mass. A sharply-dressed, feminine black mass... Definitely female, yes. Was she the instructor? Emigre? Oh boy, the range of emotions were building back up, toxic to his pulsing veins. He could feel his chest beating faster, and he could feel the water pulsing inside the bottle into a tiny, compartmentalized typhoon.

    SPLISH!

    "I've already managed to bust another bottle... Joy. If... Okay, hi. Hi there... Boyce Le-LeBreau. I'm Boyce. Or, well, if you'd prefer to call me something else, I'm Les Ouragan. The Hurricane, partna."

    It was with that frail speech that Boyce took his seat, swirling the spilled water into the air and off of the floors of the classroom. It wasn't an attempt to showboat by any means, but it he was going to make a mess... Well with his abilities, why not clean it up? Not that swirling it in mid air, above his head like a lasso was "cleaning up". Yes... The southern in Boyce was ringing out in all it's glory. No one else was around. Well, unless that WAS a person. He might as well talk while there were no nerves to stop him...

    Boyce LeBreau, ladies and gents.
     
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    Mackenzie O'Connell // Wildling Day 1.1

    Mackenzie had taken his days at Xavier's School for whatever exceptionally slow. He had only been here a few days now but somehow, he had slothed his way through most of the hallways. The school was a busy one, like schools were, and Mackenzie had watched it like everything was travelling in fast motion. At first, he thought he wouldn't fit in here, having a weird mutation here, but now he felt like he wouldn't fit in because he looked like he didn't have a mutation. There were kids everywhere with bones sticking out and strange colour skin... Mackenzie felt like he was perhaps the most normal person here.

    He had been bumped into a few times on his way to his first class (he had been snapped at a few times by 'older' students, which he had replied, "sorry dude!") but so far today was okay. He wasn't sure what this class was (Orientation? Was that it?) but classrooms seemed to all look the same. He had given himself a little time to try and find the room (which was very much not a thing Mackenzie would do usually) and it seemed he needed it, popping his head into classes which already had students in it, looking either rather angrily or rather confused at him. He had apologised maybe fifty or so times today, but he didn't get stressed or bothered about it, instead quietly closing the door and moving on.

    He finally found the class, checking the door three times to make sure it said the right room number and strolled in, taking his seat in the corner of the room, furtherest away from everyone. First, after he made himself comfortable, leaning back in his seat, he checked out who else was here. Not many people, it seemed. A dude playing with water (was that what he was doing? is that it?) and the teacher, who Mackenzie had to double take to try and realise what he had been seeing. She was... a silhouette with clothes? he kept his mouth shut, not really knowing how to introduce himself to a class of one and a teacher, and sunk further into his seat.

    Who else was meant to be in this class, then?​
     
    Two days had passed in little more than a blur of time and faces, and Arthur still felt he barely knew anyone yet. He had gotten over his newbie nerves quickly, helped by the majority of people being friendly types. Just another college. Time would tell which among the students he'd traded small-talk with would become friends. And, he mused with a rueful smile at himself, hopefully whoever was in charge of housekeeping would forgive his night-time accidents. In the middle of the first night he'd awoken to find himself in the remains of his mattress, whose split and distorted fabric and bedsprings had shaped themselves to his body during dreams of his mutant awakening. The second morning had greeted him with handprints in his headboard. Smoothing those had taken a little patience, but it would be hard to tell the damage at a glance. Switching to pencils after his first pen ruptured, getting ink all over his jotter and fingers, so far had gained him a new collection of three now surreally-shaped conversation starters.

    During his downtime he'd spent a little effort seeing what he could affect with his power. He'd made some recognisable if misshapen animals out of small glass tumblers, and the odd fork had become a simple spanner, flat-head screwdriver or tiny hammer; familiar things. Making literal stick figures out of twigs had been the easiest. The wood behaved interestingly, for one thing. Fibrous at first, he had found it compacted slightly into something much like plastic. It also remained relatively lightweight and strong, less prone to shattering or bending like glass and metal.

    The corridors of the mansion weren't as busy today as on Arthur's first. Or seemed not to be. He walked an easy pace towards class, unhurried in the least in the minutes before his orientation got underway. People nodded as they passed, some smiled, but he noted that there were a few shifted glances and suddenly hushed remarks traded as he went out of earshot. Word had obviously gotten around about his power, and with that, speculation of the hazards. He'd given one girl a fright, too, when she had approached him the second day asking if he could improve her ... assets. The oddity of the question out of the blue as it was had surprised him for a moment before his pointing out the pain involved, and then asking where about her he could move mass from in the first place, had sent the startled girl hurrying away. Anyway, in his opinion she hadn't needed much improvement.

    His musing was cut short when he neared his classroom door, it slightly ajar and closing on a sprung hinge. Good. He'd not be the first to arrive it seemed, awkward in an empty space with just the teacher and himself. He reached the door just as it clicked shut, so took a moment to straighten his pale blue T-shirt and jeans, check his trainers for dirt, set his bag over his shoulder and then turn the handle and go inside.

    Two of the seats had been filled by apparent classmates, two guys who he guessed could be his age. Arthur didn't remember meeting them around the mansion but that wasn't unusual even in a real school. Mainstream school, he mentally reminded himself. The air above one was occupied by a whorl of water, clearly having something to show off. The other seemed to be trying to become one with his seat, hunched and slid forwards in the chair. Scanning his eyes back to the front of the class he had to focus rather hard on the figure stood against the big whiteboard occupying the far wall. She, as her figure told the primal parts of his brain, was like staring at a high-contrast segment of video much like an iPod advert in negative; where her suit ended was just black, head- and hand-shaped space. The air around her outline dimmed like a shadow, the effect deepening the nearer to her it got. It made looking at her hard, Arthur's brain struggling to slot the overall effect into something that made sense. It took only a second or two for him to realise this was his teacher. He cleared his throat and put on a friendly if respectful smile.

    "Afternoon ma'am," he said and took a seat nearer the slouched lad at his right, though with an empty desk between them both.
     
    Yunia Badeesh | Dune

    The days trudged on, Yunia on the other hand had smoothly breezed passed all her schoolmates without a single words escaping her lips. Days were spent in her room or out in the mansion, adapting to her surroundings when others weren't lurking the hallways was now her favorite pastime. A kid with bones jutted out from his sleeves was an oddity that she wasn't sure how to quite make heads or tails of, but he hadn't made another appearance since then. Life was clearly tougher for those of them (mutants) that had clearly visible physical mutations instead of (kind of) the concealable one that she had. Time was the most essential if she was ever going to learn how to fully be capable of utilizing her power in a sufficient manner. So far she hadn't done much other than pure observations, it was best that she knew an impervious escape route incase things went haywire, but not just that, it wasn't always important to know every inch of the building for future use. People never knew when they would need such information, Yunia did.

    The chance to perfect her abilities would be coming soon and to be out of practice and unable to do much with it would surely be a disappointment to whatever teacher she had in the future. Behind the safety of a closed, locked door she sat on her bed and experimented and analyzed her ability. It was simply amazing that this was something she was able to do, being a mutant might be a better identifier than being a diplomat's daughter. She had once heard someone speak of an older member called "Dust" who apparently had the same (not identical) ability as her, but that was the only time she ever heard anyone speak of that name. It was a shame she wasn't as... knowledgeable about the appearance of this women who might be the most helpful person at this academy. Yunia wasn't quite ready to make that bold assumption without attending a full day of classes, which started today, finally.

    Patience was a quality Yunia had mastered at a young age but class was something that she was actually looking forward to, it stirred an excitement up in her, not enough to warrant worry. The ability to keep one's emotions under check was an technique that anyone could find useful for themselves in the future. After all, it was all about the future, what else mattered?

    Nothing.

    A path she had selected the night before, one that minimized the amount of individuals she came across and was most efficient time wise was the route she walked. Each step carefully placed as they had been done the night before, and the night before that. The schedule had stated that today she would start off with a class called, "Orientation" but whatever that entailed it didn't go into much detail about. Orientations always made Yunia uneasy, people usually liked to do introduction games where she either had to touch strangers or hear them drone on as if she clung onto their every word for life support. Yunia hoped neither of these were the case this time. Today, she wore a light green ikat patterned hooded silk scarf, which was wrapped securely around her neck leaving nothing draping but her side swept bangs. Per usual her outfit was a long-sleeved dress with an obscurely named floral pattern and was colored in earth tones, a perfect color match to her scarf. Three brown bangles rattled on her left arm as it moved at her side. This arrangement had been carefully and thoroughly planned days in advanced for this very moment.

    Due to her routinely walks she had managed to find almost every classroom without any difficulties, especially this first one. A brief pause at the door gave her a momentary observation, she had already made the decision that sitting in the front of the classroom offered the best learning experience and less people would distract her. With her private school experience Yunia had gathered that her peers liked to sit in the back of the room, not towards the front. She was the only girl in the room with a boy that looked like he belonged in the nearest homeless shelter, another who couldn't keep his water bottle fixed in one place without it spilling, and the last one looked like a mixture of the previous two. The surprising sight before her, of what she assumed was the teacher, didn't show up on her face instead she kept it stern and unreadable. It was best if one never gave away what they were truly thinking with their facial expressions unless it aided the situation at hand and in this case it did not.

    Yunia was in no hurry to make introductions, why reveal something that the teacher would already know? The others would butcher the pronunciation of name with their various accents and lack of understanding. Besides they would eventually be given their nicknames that more than likely alluded to their abilities, which would replaced their actual names. The darkness was a remarkable mutation this teacher of hers, Emigre, had and it had peaked Yunia's curiosity. How exactly was this useful in any situation except in the dead of night? There must be more to this ability to reflect light, no, she wasn't reflecting any light whatsoever, Yunia noticed. How many other fresh faces would appear in this classroom? Hopefully it was a small amount, Yunia guessed this would be her team (or only main classmates) from her on out. Any connections they attempted to make would be easily and instantly severed as she was simply uninterested in forming something so personal with these people or anyone else for that matter.
    ​
     
    Alex loved it here.
    It had been just over 2 days since her arrival, and it already felt like home.
    Nobody avoided her, no hushed whispering coupled with judgemental glares behind her back, and no hurtfull words thrown in her face around every corner.
    It hadn't truly occurred to her how shallow all her "friends" had been until they turned on her the moment she proved to be different.
    But here there was none of that, most everyone were treated with respect here, regardless of their appearence. Nobody was different, because everyone was.
    And she loved it.
    Everyone had been very helpfull so far, and she'd already made several new friends while exploring her new home, Mr. Tall, golden and handsome only the first on the list.
    Among the more notable aspects of the school had been their huge garage, the basketball court in the backyard, the giant indoor swiming pool, the garage, a fully equipped gym, and finally the garage.
    The garage alone had left her completely awe struck, and she had vowed to herself to spend a significant amount of time in there during her stay at the school, and an additional mental note to ask around as to who owned the sexy Harley Davidson motorcycle over in the corner.
    But that would have to wait, her very first class was just minutes away from starting.

    It didn't take long to find the right door, largely thanks to the helpfull directions she'd recieved during her previously mentioned exploring, and she wasted no time in entering.
    She immediately counted 4 other students already present, the most eye catching one a boy with a torrent of water circling in midair above his head.
    Upon giving his remarkably handsome face a glance, she felt almost certain she'd seen him before, waltzing around the swimming pool the day before.
    The rest of the group included a shaggy young man in the back corner of the room, seemingly doing his utmost to not attract any attention, but not doing too well.
    Followed by a rather pale guy who could do with a shave, a pretty girl wearing colorful eastern styled clothing, and...
    A few surprised blinks were warranted when giving what she presumed was their new teacher a good look. It struck her as rather strange that after having seen so many people sporting such unique features, there'd be someone lacking any features at all.

    Not wanting to make a bad first impression, she turned her smile to full power and greeted the classroom with a hand held high.
    "Hi guys, sorry I'm late!"
    And after giving the black figure at the front a respectfull nod, she waltzed over and took a seat right in front of the empty desk between the two boys in the very back.
     
    She nodded to each student in turn as they entered, watching how each of them dealt with entering the new environment. There was work to be done here, but it wasn't as bad as she had been expecting. Once the last student had arrived she stepped forward. When she spoke her English was impeccable yet it was with a clear French accent.

    "Good morning students. I trust we are all well and I 'ope none of you 'ad any trouble finding the classroom. My name is Emigre and I 'ave been assigned as your mentor during your time here at the Academy. You will 'ave many different teachers and trainers, but I will be overseeing your overall education. If you 'ave any questions or problems while you are 'ere then feel free to seek me out. All I ask of you is that you apply yourselves while you are 'ere. I will forgive many things, but if you are lazy we will 'ave problems."

    Uncrossing her arms she placed her palms on the desk and looked at each student in turn. The unsettling thing was that there was no way to tell where she was looking unless she turned her head in that direction.

    "I want you each to take a good look at the other people in this room. These are the people you will 'ave most of your classes with. These are the people you will train your powers with, go on assignments with. You are all from different parts of the world, with different backgrounds and personalities, but this is not what is important. What is important is that you are all mutants, and we are proud to be mutants. You 'ave all come here to learn and improve yourself, and this is admirable, no? And with 'ard work, you may all become X-Men someday. So please, wipe your slate clean. Remove any prejudice you may 'ave, remove the first impressions you got from each other when you came into this room. You will never 'ave the chance to change yourself or the way others see you as you do today. So choose to become the best person you can be, right now."

    Emigre ran a hand across her head, and it did in fact seem like she was bald, there was no sign of movement from hair. Walking around the desk she sat down on it, crossing her legs at the ankle. Now for the fun. Students almost always hated this part, she had been reliably informed.

    "If any of you 'ave any questions about me before we proceed I will be 'appy to answer them, I think it is important you know the person teaching you. Before that 'owever, I want to talk about your names. As some of you may know, it is traditional for a mutant to select a new name for themselves upon discovering they are X-Factor positive. It can be anything at all but usually it is a summary of your powers, your personality or, if your mutation involves your appearance, what you look like. Or perhaps all of these things. It can even be a name that is given to you by your peers, or the media if you are not so lucky. Storm is so named for her ability to control the weather, while Beast is named for his bestial appearance. It is to signify the start of your post-human life. A persons mutant name can change, but this is not so common. With this in mind, please think of what you may wish to be called if you 'ave not already. There is no rush on this, it deserves thought."

    "That said, what I would like is for you to introduce yourselves to each other. Your name, your post-human name if you 'ave one, where you are from, what your mutation or ability is and why you are 'ere, what you 'ope to learn or achieve. I think the order you arrived in is one as good as any," she said, lifting her hand towards Boyce. Usually after this exercise the students turned it around on the teacher, but it was important to start establishing familiarity amongst them. Their lives may depend on it someday.
     
    There are this many students? Oh, good lawd.

    One by one, Boyce would let himself look in the direction of the entering students, trying to somewhat acquaint himself with their looks. The guy immediately behind him was an interesting enough character, and the next was no different. Although he sure was cute. The next two were both girls; one appeared to be of middle eastern descent, while the other had the looks of someone from a foreign background. Swedish, perhaps? Wrong. When she spoke there was no hint of an accent, so for now Boyce appeared to be wrong. Of all the others in the classroom, she was apparently the most excited to be there. Of course, this wasn't necessarily a bad thing. No, it was more about envy in Boyce's rather than staring at them in jealousy or spite. Each had spoken when they walked in, except for the middle eastern girl and the guy immediately after Boyce. Were they nervous too, or were they just not the social type? Yes, now was going to be the time to evaluate and educate one's self. Whether he did it slyly or by approaching them, flashing a smile or giving the stink eye, Boyce would definitely need to ditch his little airborne pool party. No one likes a cocky mutant, no?

    Just as Boyce was getting deeper into the mental warfare in his head, the silent black mass that was at the front of the classroom began to speak. French? Interesting. Boyce had now turned his full attention to her as she spoke, trying to listen as hard as he could without over listening. Her accent was clearly French, but when she spoke it was clear and concise; well put together. Furthermore, she was making it clear that she was here for help rather than harm. Not that Boyce had ever thought he was going to be in danger while he attended the academy, but with coming to terms with his powers there had also came a sense of paranoia. That was a normal thing. Besides her ability to command the room, there was a said warmth to the figure that Boyce would've never expected based off of her appearance. More then just speaking to them, she seemed to really invest herself in their successes already. There was no way for any of them to tell that she was smiling, or that she had any expression at all, but she had done well by him with her speech. This isn't to say he's going to go frolic down the hallways, giggling with his newly-found friends... No, now that would take some work.

    He was a lot less opposed to it now, though.

    As Emigre continued to speak, Boyce found himself falling deeper into the fascination behind her speech skills. However, it did come at the price of suspicion. Emigre had never met any of them, and yet, she had the nature of someone that had been a part of their lives for quite some time. That was the hard part. Boyce wanted to trust her, she seemed nice enough, but he also found it hard to fully dive into that belief when there was so little that they knew about her. Now was not the time to go full out "Area 51!" suspicions on her. She continued to move through the motions, letting them know early on in the speech that these were indeed the people they would be seeing the most. Having stared at all of them at an appropriate length by his own standards, Boyce was alright with this. However, that was what she next addressed: She wanted them to let go out of their first impressions, and rather than dissecting the appearance and actions of one another, she wanted them to focus on themselves. Bettering of one's self through actions rather than thoughts. Boyce would do his best, but the nerves within himself were going to be the real kicker. He had learned and nurtured a certain level of confidence while he played sports, and that confidence was still there, but it had taken a considerable amount of damage after the discovery of his powers. Finding the full power of his confidence again would be his own internal struggle, but one that he could let affect his potentials with the potential team.

    So much to think about, so little mental stability.
    Head above water.

    Before Boyce fell completely off his rocker and into his own mind, Emigre dropped another bomb of sorts. She wanted them to pick their mutant name and more than that, she wanted them to introduce themselves and to reveal a few pieces of their past. Furthermore, Boyce was expected to go first. This early bird didn't want the worm. The name wasn't an issue for Boyce... No, that was the easiest of all the things ironically. He had already picked his name a few months in advance. It was more about his past. Specifically senior year. This was going to be the only issue he had. He didn't know the circumstances of the others and their powers, or what they did to get to this point, but knowing the very circumstances of his own was enough to make him want to shut down. Boyce had done his best to not put a lot of thought into that incident, only thinking about it in instances of emotional pain. He by no means "had it all", but what he did have he lost. Everyone has to grown up in their own way or another, and that had been his way of maturing. A rough one, but there was more good to take of the situation than bad. He would just have to be nervous.

    He would just have to get over it.
    Stand tall, stand mighty.

    "Well, since I have no choice..."

    Boyce muttered the few words to himself, standing and turning to face the class. Before speaking clearly enough for them to hear him, he swirled the water above his head into the remains of the crumpled water bottle. No more showboating for Boyce. Be humble.

    "For those of you, or all of you that don't know me, My name is Boyce. Boyce LeBreau. I am from a small parish by the name of St. Bernard in Louisiana, from a small area referred to as Meraux. My family is of French or Cajun descent... I got a little more of the Cajun then I wanted, but that's alright." The Cajun and French mix of his accent was a hard one to decipher, but he spoke his words clearly enough that there should be little trouble understanding him. "I am known as a bit of a freak back home... Actually, I think that may be a bit of an understatement..."

    Boyce's eyes began to shift but he carried on, doing his best to fight the anxiety in every way he could.

    "I had an incident my senior year of school. I wasn't aware of my abilities, I didn't know what was lying dormant inside of me, I had never been so angry. I.. I was playing soccer, in a sort of "big game", and I got mad. Well, maybe that's an understatement. Hell, partna..." Boyce began to shift a little more, rubbing his hands together in a rapid manner. "Anyways, I found out at that point that I was able to manipulate water. Whether that be the smallest little bit of water, or a larger body of such... I have the ability to control it. I can't make my own, though. That would sure be cool..."

    Slight pause.

    "I do have troubles, though. Like any of you, I am here to hopefully learn to better my abilities. Nerves do get the best of me, and I ain't always the easiest to get along with when I'm in a water frenzy. I get a little frazzled, you see... I can really cause havoc. I don't want to do that, though. Not unless it's for good. I want to be better. I want to do better. Maybe it's just my competitive nature?" Boyce could feel himself calming more, and so he kept on with his speech. "I would ideally like to make friends, or at the very least acquaintances. This is the first time I have been around other people like myself, and it's a drastic change. I haven't been able to be open, and even now I'm not sure I like what I'm doing. It's very hard for me."

    Boyce turned to Emigre, nodding his head and offering a nervous smile.

    "As for what I'd like to be called... Please call me Les Ouragan. It's french, and it means The Hurricane. I know that it might be a little cheesy, but get to know me... Well, you'll see that it's very fitting." Boyce gave one last glance at the class, cracking a bright smile for the first time before turning again to Emigre. He couldn't see her facial expressions, and that was a little hard, but she could see his and that was all he needed. He was beginning to get flustered again. "If you don't mind ma'am, I would like to take my seat now."
     
    Mackenzie O'Connell // Wildling Day 1.2

    Mackenzie didn't notice the other three kids entering the room, instead inspecting his fingernails for any foreign materials. They were a little bit dirty, probably from moving his stuff around the past few days. Should he clean them in class? Was that a good idea? Would that seem rude? He proceeded anyways, using another fingernail to get rid of the black stuff.

    The teacher started to talk, and Mackenzie probably looked like he wasn't paying attention, but he was. When he was satisfied with his fingernails, he returned to slumping in his seat, his eyes moving between the students he hadn't noticed come in, his hands and the teacher. One, two, three... four and five, including himself. Was this a full class? Because from what Mackenzie remembered, classes had way more than five people. Like twenty way more. It wasn't a big deal, it just meant that he had to try harder to not get randomly picked when the teacher asked random questions. Like she just did now.

    Asking for a name, a... post-human name (geez, that didn't make him feel like a freak at all), their ability and what they wanted to learn. Well, at least it wasn't a math quiz.

    One guy got up and proceeded to tell the class his life story. Mackenzie was glad he was at the back of class, lolling his head over his chair, trying to paraphrase the story to something slightly less long. His name was... Boyce (was that his name? Is that a name?) but his new name was Les Ourangan, something that Mackenzie would have a lot of trouble pronoucing. And he could control water. Everything else was hazy and hard to understand, something about getting angry when he was playing football. He said his really long story and sat back down.

    Macca went next, though didn't bother standing. Might as well get his out of the way.

    "Mackenzie O'Connell," he started, his obvious Welsh accent (or those who weren't familiar with different British dialects, just British accent) dripping off his words, "bu' mos' people jus' call me Macca. Um, I'm a shapeshifter, I s'pose," he said, making a face a little at the word. He had never really had to describe himself to anyone, since he hadn't told anyone. Would that be how he described it? Was that what he was? He wasn't even sure of it himself. "'nd I guess I wanter learn how to... control it? Yeah, I guess tha's it."

    He felt a little silly describing himself like that but at least the teacher wouldn't annoy him later about not 'participating'.​
     
    Having looked briefly at the other students to arrive after he'd come in, Arthur had focused mostly on the tutor at the front. As she spoke her welcome and outlined the class they'd all be taking, he jotted a few notes on his pad, leaving plenty of margin space for his own thoughts later. He found her accent quite pleasant on the ear, but it seemed faded. Perhaps it'd been some time since she'd been on French soil? Emigré's words on his fellow students studying together with him came as no surprise; his senior schooling had included tutor groups so this was nothing new. What made his pen stop jotting was the mention of wiping of slates. He tapped his chin with his pencil and took another look around at his classmates. What had they all walked away from, he wondered?

    As the Cajun talked, he watched and listened. It was hard for him to follow what the man said, the accent making some words blur together. Arthur thought he got the gist, though, and knew that over time he'd adapt to the way Boyce, or, Les Ouragan spoke. He could always ask some questions later. The man sat, and Arthur turned his head to the more awkward lad to his right as he made his introduction. Here was a more familiar accent, and he more easily followed the tones of his Welsh neighbour. Arthur noted that the lad didn't stand as the Cajun had, further reinforcing the impression that here was someone not so socially comfortable. With Macca's short oration over Arthur knew his turn had come. He got to his feet with a quiet clearing of his throat and smiled.

    "I'm Arthur," he began, keeping his eyes moving from one classmate to the next to include them all without focusing on any. "I'm from England, raised in a city I think few of you have heard of, called Swindon. My power lets me reshape solids; metals, glass, wood and such. It goes like wet clay, all soft and malleable."

    He realised he'd been unconsciously kneading something in his right hand and found he'd lost another pencil to his gift. He raised the bubble-gum sized lump demonstratively. "As you can see, I'm still not in full control of this. I'm calling myself Artisan. Since they made things with their hands, from clay and the like, it seemed a best fit."

    Arthur let the wooden pellet rest on his desk and tucked his thumbs into his pockets. He would have to think of something to make yet another former pencil into.

    "I'd like to learn to stop that happening, obviously," he nodded at the pellet, "I'd hate to have it happen just shaking hands. But I s'pose I want to know just what I can and can't do with my power. They didn't exactly print guidelines."

    He sat back down with a final, fairly cheerful smile around again at his classmates, signalling the end of his introduction. That was easier than he'd expected, given he hadn't had warning he'd be doing any public speaking, though he guessed it was to be expected for a smaller class. Truth be told, he admitted to himself, he was glad to only have four other classmates. It made it feel just like any old study group more than a proper class. He let his mind quiet then and turned his attention to the two women in his class, moreso at the one in the scarf than the redhead, and waited for her to speak. It was odd that this one hadn't once more than glanced at anyone, and, judging by her expressionless mask, had no intention to, either. How she handled her introduction was going to be interesting.
     
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    Yunia Badeesh | Dune

    A large sigh escaped Yunia's mouth; per usual she had guessed the situation before it had happened, horrid introductions. She wasn't in a mood to be prompted to reveal anything personal about her to these strangers, though Yunia supposed that teaching them the correct pronunciation of her name was the only highlight. Émigré accent was of French origins, like everyone else she felt at ease with it, but only reminded Yunia of her own. Well, the one that Yunia accurately feigned to defer individuals such as the ones that sat around her. Émigré yammered on about removing prejudices and first impressions, but Yunia didn't agree with that in the slightest. These moments were when one could grasp whom and what a person was truly like through mere observations of their actions and word choices. Disregarding that would be outright foolish, especially if Yunia was expected to rely on these people, form a team with them, and interact, though she had no plans to do the latter. While the others may do what Émigré put forth Yunia had no plans on following any suggestions but her own for the time being, and perhaps the others would do the same.

    It was hard, there were very few acceptable mutant names that Yunia liked, and however was she going to pick one? Having one thrust upon her by another wasn't in the cards either; she refused to be the butt of anyone's offhanded recommendations. The name would derive from a sand-related word, Particle? Sandstorm? Grain? They were all average at best, by the time the introductions got to her Yunia knew she would have one, she must, afterall it was already planned that she reveal it.

    Order was dictated by their arrival in the room, which meant that she was fourth or second-to-last, which worked. Preparation for this moment had already been done the night before she stepped foot in the mansion, every word delicately planned. First up was water bottle boy, and surprise his power had to deal with water, also his name was Boyce or Les Ouragan, and it looked like he had put some thought of into his name as well. He rattled on about personal information that Yunia committed to memory just incase it became helpful in the near or not so near future. The confidence that he had when he was sitting had disappeared as Boyce rose and spoke, was he not used to speaking in front of others? Shame, but there was something that Yunia wondered, why had he described himself as a freak and then went on to say that was an underestimation. There was more to that tale than him just being a mutant, perhaps if she observed him long enough she would figure out what he hadn't revealed.

    Released from the nearest pound was Mackenzie or Macca, as he preferred. Yunia pondered if he indeed had gotten all his shots, she doubted he would've been allowed in otherwise. Not coincidental at all, but his ability was to shapeshift, how fitting since he could already pass off as a dog. Even with a keen ear Yunia couldn't place his accent except somewhere in the United Kingdom.

    Throughout the entirety of the introductions Yunia hadn't glanced at any of them, not even to angle her head to look at them while they spoke. It was simply a means to convey to the person that one was indeed paying attention to what they were speaking, but Yunia could do just as well without straining her neck. Like Macca she had no intentions of standing, nor facing anyone but Émigré, as she felt there wasn't a point to do such a thing. The others might take her actions as shyness or nervousness, or anti-social, but what others thought mattered very little, as it aided in nothing that Yunia had to do while she was here. The boy who seemed to be a combination of the first two stood and talked to them, his ability was the most interesting thus far, but the same couldn't be said for his personality. He was from England yet his accent differed slightly from that of the boy that went before him. Yunia had no plans of revealing where she was from as it had little importance to the reason why she was here.

    After waiting a few moments for Arthur to take his seat, Yunia readied her feigned Iranian accent (They would just generalized it as "Middle Eastern") and then proceed.

    "Yunia Badeesh, you may refer to me as Yunia, no abbreviations or nicknames necessary as I will not to respond to such…" A pause was taken for the proper effect to settle in. Yunia already knew what she was going to say next, "Idiocies."

    Perfect, not a single missed beat or mistake, but that was to be expected from Yunia, as she never made a mistake because it wasn't in her plans. "The ability of which I possess is that of Sand Mimicry," A display of power wasn't necessary, she had nothing to prove to these people, nor was this the time or place to do such things. Her eyes met that of Émigré's, or at least where she assumed where her eyes were, "The process is my body takes on the properties of sand particles, and also allows it to become homogenous in matter."

    "Dune. Dune is the mutant name I've chosen to represent me as a student in this institution," It had came to her mere instances after she delivered her last lines. Yunia spoke with absolute confidence and boldness, "For those of you who lack the appropriate pronunciation skills that is needed to say my name then I direct you to just say Dune and trouble yourself no longer."
    ​
     
    Introductions, those are the best part!
    Alexandra always relished the idea of getting to know someone new, the more the merrier.
    The rest of the class didn't quite seem to feel the same way however.
    One by one they they all, rather reluctantly got up, or not, and gave a brief backstory, some briefer than others.
    All the varied accents alone made a strong point of how diversified this class was.
    Something that, largely thanks to her mother - a university linguistics professor, just made the whole thing more exciting.

    The indroductions passed rather quickly, and soon enough it was her turn.
    Giving Yunia, or Dune, just enough time to be sure she was finished with her little speech, Alexandra stood up, attempting to angle herself in such a way she could at least somewhat see everyone.
    "Hi guys! I'm Alexandra Stål, and I come from a small town in Sweden called Motala."
    She took just a brief pause to look at everyone one by one, or at least those who were willing to return the look.
    "I am 18 years old, my birthday is September 26 and I'm a libra. I love health food, because it's good for staying in shape, but I also love snacks. I also like sports, like basket, football, swimming, and..."
    She made herself a mental note not to spill her entire life story at once, they were probably on the clock, and she didn't want to hog all the available time.
    "...Hrm, anyway, I'm here because I was kinda hit by a truck, and I didn't die."
    She briefly considered a demonstration, but unsure of how safe or unsafe it might be in the classroom, opted not to.
    "Right before it hit me I "accidently" turned completely into some sort of metal form. It looks really cool, but it might be a bit too heavy to use in here, so If anyone wants to see I can show it later! Oh, and I can turn really hot too."
    She gave herself a nod, rather satisfied with the intro. Oh, save for one thing.
    "Oh right, as for the name thing... I'm not sure yet, I haven't come up with anything I really like the sound of yet. Is it okay if I take some extra time to think about it?"
    And with that she sat back down, waiting for Emigre to take the word once again.
     
    So.

    Arthur sat and listened to the exotic accent of the Middle-Eastern girl with growing disdain. She seemed, to him, to be the most pointlessly hostile and stuck-up bowl of acid indigestion he'd met in the school. And arrogant. Her name didn't sound one bit difficult to pronounce, but there she was all social distance, patronisation and condescension. Balls to her attitude. Arthur began making a mental list of mispronunciations of her name. And, the girl never once looked at the rest of them.

    Suit your bloody self, love, he thought as Yunia stopped flapping her tongue. Christ, if they were going to work together exclusively over the coming months then that bird was going to be a challenge. He let himself sigh as loudly as the "Persian" had, though made it into a sound of impatience.

    The last classmate in the room pushed her chair back, and Arthur looked round to watch her talk. She seemed nice enough. A looker, that one. She'd get plenty of attention from the rest. Arthur only admired her, though. His heart was way back in England. Her power didn't seem much more than toughness and strength from what she described, but the question to exactly what it looked like in action piqued his curiosity. When Alexandra mentioned her country of birth Arthur's brows rose. He'd pegged her accent for North American. Did they all sound like that in Sweden? A question for later, if they got talking. He doubted it.

    With no-one else to speak, he looked again to the front of the class at where the tutor stood, and waited.
     
    Emigre paid close attention to what each of the students had to say about themselves, as well as how they said it. Some attitude adjustments were going to have to be made, but this was the first day. She hadn't been a shining example of civility when her mutation first revealed itself, so she could hardly expect that from anyone else. Time would see those changes occur soon enough.

    "Very good, thank you everyone. Alexandra, Mackenzie, there is no rush to think of your post-'uman name, you should take your time and think of one you are 'appy with. Now, as I said, these will be the people you spend most of your time with. 'owever, you are all individuals, with different abilities and needs, so you will not 'ave all your classes together," she said, picking a stack of papers up from her desk and walking through the room, setting papers on each students desk. The odd effect of darkness moved with her, seemed to be a part of her. Wherever she went in the room seemed to become more poorly lit than anywhere else, but didn't linger once she moved on. It was as if she was generating anti-light.

    "These are your provisional syllabus. It is the classes you are being assigned at first, but this is not permenant. As we get to know you better - what you can do, what you want, what you need - we will adapt. Your education, like you, will evolve, yes? As you can see, we do not merely train your powers here. You will all study Maths, Sciences, History, English Language and Literature, Geography, Social Studies, Self Defense, Algebra... well, I think you get the idea, yes? Some of your classes will be held psychically, so we can accomplish more. A two 'our psychic class on the American Civil War can be achieved in two minutes, so if your timetable at first glance looks impossible I assure you it is not."

    She returned to her position at the front of the room, leaning on her desk. While she had been moving about the classroom people would have been able to glance her profile, rather than her frontal silhouette. She looked to be in good shape, but then again, all that could be seen was her shape...

    "We will also 'ave the sessions you expect, where we study and work with your mutant abilities. We will improve your control and study practical applications. That being said, you 'ave individual classes we suspect may 'elp your abilities in a less direct way. Les Ouragan," she said, putting her full French accent into the pronounciation and sounding amused, "you have a class studying the various chemical interactions water can effect and undergo, as well as weather patterns. Mackenzie, you will study animal physiology and biology. Artisan, for obvious reasons we are giving you a sculpting class. Dune - we have arranged an advanced geology class for you, in addition to the standard studies of that subject. Alexandra, you will be studying thermal sciences for the time being."

    She gace them all a moment to digest the information and read their syllabus. It was incredibly dense, full of just about every topic you could imagine along with some unsuaul ones - Interstellar Species Relations, Homo Superior History, Atlantean Politics... to the less studious it would be nothing short of daunting.

    "Now. If this seems like a lot, do not worry. As I said, your education 'ere will evolve as we get to know you better. Before we carry on, does anyone have any questions? About each other, the school, your classes, myself? And before you ask, no, you will not be receiving uniforms yet, nor will we be concerning ourselves with their design."
     
    She recieved her syllabus from Emigre, and damn be if it wasn't jam-packed with stuff. She couldn't see how they would possibly have time to uphold a schedule like this on a daily basis untill she heard about the psychic "speed-lessons". Those would no doubt be interesting
    "Thermal science" she said. Really? Alex tried to think of how that would be validated, she couldn't even get hot enough to boil an egg. She thought for sure her main focus would've been some sorth of strength training or maybe boxing or even martial arts.

    She was more than excited when she found Mechanical Engineering on the very long list of classes to be had, and nearly got lost in her fantasies of toiling away in that gigantic garage for days on end... Some other classes sounded more exotic, to say the least. "Mutant history", something about Atlantis? "Interstellar species"...? Dear lord.
    And now they had reached the time for questions, should they have any. A few moments of thought, but she couldn't really think of anything, the class so far had been informative enough, and most of the other students didn't seem in the mood to answer personal questions.

    All in all she couldn't really think of anything to say, so she remained quiet for once, instead opting to put some thought into their upcomming class schedule. She noticed a lot of linguistic studies included, presumably because of the extensive mix of nationalities present in the student body. Understandable, communication is the basis of all teamwork, and in this class, they really seemed to need it. So far she'd counted two british accents, one of them welsh, two french speakers, one pure, the other somewhat mixed, and lastly Iranian. Counting her own mother tongue, that made for a minimum of five nationalities in this room alone. Suddenly the persistent tutoring from her mother seemed like time rather well spent afterall.
     
    Mackenzie O'Connell // Wildling Day 1.3

    "Yep," Mackenzie said under his breath. Yeah, he'd never really thought about a name until now. Of course, he wouldn't give himself one. That seemed lame. The best nicknames were given to you by your friends because you did something stupid or were really tall or something. Maybe someone in this class. He gave his peers another look over again. His eyes were caught to the Middle-Eastern girl, previously mentioned as "Dune" or Yunia. He probably wouldn't remember either, but she seemed pretty cute. Maybe a little up herself, but maybe he could cheat off her on exams or something later on.

    His eyes returned to his hands when the French lady started to talk about school things again. She started to list a very long list of subjects that they had to study but apparently they could learn classes super quickly. Was it like the Matrix? Did they stick a thing in their neck and they uploaded information? Maybe Mackenzie could learn Martial Arts since this seemed to be the laziest way possible. Wait... Psychic... was that like bending spoons? That was in the Matrix too. Did he bring his DVD with him? He had a real hankering to watch it now.

    His ear perked up when the teacher said his name again. Animal Physiology and... Biology? Was that the one where you had to cut up the frogs? That seemed kinda fun, maybe. But what did frogs have to do with his ability? Maybe he was getting this confused with something else. He should probably listen more. Maybe.

    At the mention of questions, Mackenzie shook his head and rested his head on the desk. He was sure the other classmates were going to ask something profound about their abilities. Something like 'Will my life ever be the same?'. Lame.​
     
    Yunia Badeesh | Dune

    Her introduction had gone smoothly, though this wasn't any surprise to Yunia as she had expected as much. After all these were her plans and they hadn't failed her yet. Another student spoke up, an Alexandra, Yunia did what she had done with the others and committed even the smallest amount of details shared with the class to memory. That, as well as not turning and facing her, Yunia kept her eyes firmly placed in front of her. She cared very little about the thoughts that were swirling in their heads about her or the people who thought them up.

    Their teacher, Émigré, spoke again, but this time it was more pleasing to Yunia. The assumption that she would share all her classes with the insolent group of misfits was a tad bit off based and for once she was glad that it had been. The syllabus was glanced over eagerly, seeking out the classes, which would best further not only her ability but her intelligence. Less and less attention was paid directly to the teacher that moved around the room, as Yunia had given up on observing her mutation. Only when her mutant name had been spoken had she bothered listening, she didn't remove her eyes from the syllabus to look at Émigré that was unnecessary. Advanced Geology? Easy enough for anyone with her intelligence level, she wouldn't ask this lot of students to help her that was for sure.

    Questions? Yunia felt like yawning to show her boredom with this class and the peers that sat around her. It almost tempted her to ask, "When can I leave?" But she hadn't. Rude as it may be a majority of the interest she had invested into Orientation was weaning, hopefully she would be allowed to go. If none of them asked questions that would only speed up the process. Imagining the questions that they might ask, which all had obvious answers to them, only made Yunia's head hurt. She wondered how the rest of the day would pan out... A long, unproductive day was in store if it went by how Yunia thought.

    Those thoughts shifted to all the mutations she had learned about thus far and the only one that she felt uneasy about was Les Ouragan's. In a fight it wouldn't be hard from him to subdue her, wet sand made her sluggish and useless, Yunia found this out one day after she began to ponder the weaknesses she had. This Self-Defense class surely would cover such predicaments? Sand Mimicry was basically a self-defensive in itself it would be foolish to try and take her on in close range physical combat once she learned to shift most of her body into sand. For the moment Yunia knew that she would pay some attention in that class if it would advance her survival rate in an actual battle. Wait, when would they be allowed in the field? That must would be put off for awhile even if Yunia hadn't looked at them she knew this bunch was a miserable bunch and not for a second would she entrust her life into their unworthy hands.
    ​
     
    As Emigré put a sheaf of paperwork on his desk, Arthur took them up and browsed them. As he read the various subject headers of the contents list he shook his head in thought, noting the oddest of the topics. He made a note on the top-right corner of the cover to return the syllabus he'd gotten on the first day to the front desk for re-use. The sculpture classes made sense. The rest... He'd wait until those classes before he asked. He did have one thing niggling in his mind, though, and looked up at the tutor when she paused to regard them.

    "I have a question or two; Why us?" Arthur nodded round the room at Boyce and Mackenzie, taking them in to include the whole class. "You've got him with his water, a wrenchie, Mack here and Yaoi over there and me with my mash-fu. Why choose the five of us specifically?"
     
    Pourquoi?

    Boyce had zoned out a bit once taking his seat, but he had done well enough to memorize the faces that stood after and the words that followed each of them. Yunia or "Dune" as she wanted to be called was the most interesting of all, a matter that Boyce was sure most of them could agree on. She didn't want to associate with any of them, that much she had made clear, despite there being nothing visually alarming to make her feel as though she was better than the rest of them. Boyce tried not to judge, try being the key word there. Her talent was also the most interesting of those announced, largely due to the fact that the right mixture of their abilities and they could be a useful tandem. Alas, there would be no chance to combine the two. She was set in her ways, Boyce didn't have the special kind of patience for her attitude, and the last thing the group of them needed was a internal war. If she wanted to be left alone, so be it... Boyce had been there and purchased the tickets to that show already. "Pushing" wasn't his thing.

    "You have a class studying the various chemical interactions water can effect and undergo, as well as weather patterns."

    Snapped back to reality, Boyce looked at the syllabus placed in front of him. Along with the classes that Emigre had read aloud for all to hear, there was the addition of three more classes. First was Geography, a class that seemingly made sense for someone who could manipulate 70% of what covered the earth's surface. Daunting indeed. Geography was followed by Interstellar Species Relations and lastly Atlantean Politics, another class that Boyce felt was based off the underwater society. It peaked his interest enough, so that would work. Boyce had took enough time off from learning that the task at hand was going to be difficult, but the interest in the subjects assigned for Boyce was enough to make it seem less horrifying. Emigre too, was enough of a calming presence that matters would be too terribly unnerving. She seemed invested in their nurturing and in their perseverance over their powers and even their fears... Good company to keep, for sure.

    At the mentioning of questions, it was like a typhoon of thoughts broke loose in Boyce's head. Everything that he had quietly asked himself in his head, or pondered was fighting its way like raging waters to escape his lips. Before that could happen however, someone else managed to get words out. The boy with the sculpting talents? Yes, that was him. Boyce listened intently as the boy asked why there were all chosen for this, a good question, then as he mentioned them outside of their names. "Him with his water?" Boyce could feel a slight anger building, but a stream of happier thoughts refocused him and gave him the ability to look at Emigre. If there was an important question to ask, then the sculptor had just asked it.

    "We're hardly similar... It's a reasonable question, ma'am." The words rolled off Boyce's tongue with full cajun enunciation. "It just seems like odd timing. I would imagine that we would have some similarities, but I have seen and heard not a single one. It's... It's very different from what I think we're all used to."
     
    "An excellent question," Emigre nodded, "And one we are asked often. You are all very different from each other - this is common in our class groups. You may look at those 'ere with you today and think, why am I with them? They are not my sort of people, no? They are not the sort of people I associate with, they are not my... clique. My social grouping. And you would be right - but you are also wrong. We all have one thing in common of course. We are Mutants. The thing that makes us the same is that we are all different, utterly unique even beyond the way of 'normal' people. We 'ope that someday you can all realise that all Mutants are like a family."

    She waved dismissively and let out a low, throaty chuckle. "That, of course, is the storybook explanation. It is what Charles preaches, and it is not untrue. I believe it, with all my 'eart, but it is not the whole reason, no? You are an international group, this always tests well, with a wide variety of powers that 'old potential synergies for both the practical applications and field operations, should you graduate to those. We believe that with the correct PR training and image you would make good representatives for the school and for post-humans generally. Your backgrounds are varied and there is potential for you to learn from each other as well as the school if you allow yourselves to. There are more practical reasons - when you were all available to join us, the effectiveness of my abilities with and in opposition to your own, ensuring a class is not all male or all female. We go through this process with every class group, and 'old a 'igh success rate. You are together because the schools expertise and experience tells us you should be, it will be good for you. And as teacher I 'ad some input into what students I work with. I saw all your files and I liked you. I saw potential."

    She ran a hand across her scalp, the lack of any movement confirming that she was bald. "Any other questions? You may ask each other questions also, if you wish. It is natural to be curious about the mutations of others."

    There seemed some reluctance to speak up, but there was nothing she could do to force the children to interact. They would have to let their walls down when they were ready.
     
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