A Personal Project

Damian strode down a path on the way to the forges during one of the rare morning breaks, his posture upright and relaxed. He seemed alert, but confident, eyes quick but also thoroughly at ease. His hands rested comfortably on the pommels of the katanas on his belt. The third was slung over his shoulder.

All sensible people carried three katanas on them, of course.

He was on a bit of a business trip, just coming to check that the war machines that he needed for his squadron were in top condition. He couldn't have a faulty part in the field, after all--and visiting the blacksmith would probably ensure maximum quality and craftsmanship. He had a way of intimidating people if he wanted.

Strolling into the forges, the albino was at once thankful to be free of the sun's burning rays. In here there was a lot of heat, yes, especially for all the layers he was wearing, but that was alright. He could put up with heat, but his skin couldn't put up with the sun.

The red embers of the forges seemed to make his eyes glow, as they were red enough already. Striding up to a randomly selected shirtless blacksmith, he stopped across from the teenager, watching him work his craft for a few moments.

"Morning. Happen to know who'd be making the war machines for the Squadron Command class?" he asked, apropos of nothing.

"Pleasure. Damian Valdemar, fourth year, follower of the First Petal."

So Aidan's suspicions had been correct. Damian was one of the famous Firsts.

His grip was firm when they shook hands in greeting, and Aidan had no doubt that the male now had hands covered in black dust. Oh well, not my fault. 

"I'm here to see progress on the machines, if there is any. I wanted to inspect them myself before we take them to the field, and while I don't doubt the quality of the goods produced here, I would want to ensure that they're all in prime condition. Besides, a little knowledge of their workings couldn't hurt if one happens to break down in action."

At first, when the boy had set his hand on the pommel of one of his katanas, Aidan tensed slightly. It was common for students to get in fights and threaten each other outside of the Training Gym despite the strict rules within the handbook and Aidan knew that some Firsts dulled out threats like Grandmothers did with candy. After only a moment though, Aidan realized it was just a habit of thought.

With a short nod, Aidan got to work on explaining the current state of the war machines. "We've still got quite a few ballistas from years past. Some are in pretty bad shape and we are working on repairing them now. There are two or three ready for use with your squad, though you'll need to make the formal report with taking them out for your class. Sort of like a library book, y'know? Let's see... We've got some different types of catapu--" 

Aidan was interrupted abruptly by a dull looking boy with brown hair stumbling in. He apologized for a moment before shrinking in on himself, obviously immediately becoming self-conscious. Aidan could relate and immediately decided to make the kid feel welcomed.

It seemed, however, that Aidan would not get the chance yet when the brown haired kid asked for Damian. Aidan looked to the albino expectantly, suddenly curious.

This new kid doesn't look the type for trying to find a fight... Could be one of the Firsts' Squad kids? ....Doubt it. He doesn't look the type. Not built for swords.... Guess I'll find out in about two seconds though.

"Indeed. Damian Valdemar, at your service."

Flynn mirrored Damian, extending his arm and giving him a firm handshake. He was slightly taken aback by the crimson eyes, but shrugged it off just as easily. A mere iris mutation was nothing compared to the oddness that many others evoked.
Of course, Flynn certainly didn't mind anything divergent. He encouraged it, despite his average self.

... Like Amy! She was unique. Her eye color varied alongside her mood, which made it fairly easy to prod at her emotions. Flynn obviously befriended her, and in no way took her wavering retinas for granted.
Okay, maybe to cheer her up. But it was harmless compared to what some people would do!

It's a shame she died. It was the customary case of a suicidal juvenile, and it was blatantly obvious why. She barely scrubbed through her classes with a D, and her combat skills were not nearly proficient enough. She fashioned herself a noose just before entering the field.

It's too bad. Their conversations were fun!

"Yep! That'd be me." He answered, his arm recoiling to his side. Nobody liked a long handshake.

"Room 148, I presume?" He wasn't sure why he asked; it was obvious that Damian was his assigns roommate. Still, he underwent the same routine every year, save his first. Apparently some hilarious second year thought it would be funny to tamper with the dorm assignments, and paired him (along with a few other gullible first years) with two other sixth year girls.
Needless to say, he camped in the courtyard until everything was readjusted.

Flynn isn't one to hold grudges, even if his first impressions of the academy deteriorated into hatred for the first few months because of a joke at would get real old real fast. It's all firmly planted in his past, and he looks into the future with a head held high.

He hasn't had an awful roommate yet. Why should that start now?