<span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span> <table class=ooc><tr><td> Who <span style='color:firebrick'>Sylverstryx Rymapumkaj</span> & <span style='color:teal'>Asmodeus Uj'jikanrikura</span> What Wrapping up a private tutoring session. Where Tsupeon, one of the outer fields When First period after lunch Timestamp 24 of Mia, 81379 Rated PG-13, Stryx and Asmo swear on occasion Status Open {telepathy} thoughts "speaking" </td></tr></table> The winter sun beat down from behind a light dusting of clouds, and despite the presence of the chill Mia winds, there was a thin sheen of sweat present on the brow of a lean male pendragon. He was currently hunched over the exposed engine of a modified racer class ship, half-hidden behind an open panel that gave him access to the ships inner workings. A pair of goggles, black straps with yellow accents and red-tinted glass, was pulled down over his eyes, protecting them from the occasional cloud of acrid smoke that billow up into his face. His hands, arms, and the side of his face were streaked with engine grease and dirt, staining his shirt sleeves and work gloves. He hair was pulled back behind a checkered bandanna, and secured with a simple hair tie. Torn jeans, scuffed sneakers and a tool belt completed his grease-monkey ensemble; old clothes he had purposely worn when he had found out he was going to get down and dirty with the inside of the Fibajm. SylverstryxÂ’s handsome fur was saved from certain shearing, as the grease one accumulated from the inside of an engine was almost impossible to clean out. His brow was furrowed has he diligently worked, always under the careful eye of his mentor, the pilot of the craft he was currently working on. In the distance he could vaguely make out the sounds of a gym class in progress, although what teacher would be sadistic enough to drag their students out in this weather he did not know. His own teacher as seated in the cockpit of the Fibajm, watching him through the thick glass of the front window as he tinkered with the engine components. Asmodeus reclined in the heavily padded pilotÂ’s seat, eyes half-lidded and ears drooping. To all that were unaware of the femaleÂ’s habits, she could be mistaken for being asleep, or at least dozing. However, Asmo was wide-awake, keeping a wary eye on her hotheaded pupil lest he harm her baby. Occasionally she would twitch her tail, which was wrapped around the ignition, and give the engine a little boost of power. A grin flickered over her face when another cloud of black filth billowed up into StryxÂ’s face. It wasnÂ’t malicious intent that caused her to do this, every time the ship rumbled sheÂ’d listen with a keep ear for the tell tale rattle that told her something inside was still loose. <span style='color:teal'>{ItÂ’s a bolt Sylver, youÂ’re probably staring right at it.}</span> Asmodeus projected her thoughts towards the male, nearly bursting out in laughter at the glare her shot her. Sure enough though, the next time Sylverstryx made an adjustment, and Asmo turned over the engine, there was no smoke cloud or metal rattling, just the smooth purr of her babyÂ’s floorboards beneath her feet. Stryx closed the panel with a small click, sliding down off the side of the ship and onto the snowy ground below. After he had tucked his tools away into his belt he peeled off the sweat and grime coated shirt he had been wearing. He let it fall to the ground with hardly a though, swiftly replacing it with his crew jacket. The shirt was little more than a rag now, probably not even worth being used to buff the hull. HeÂ’d throw it out later. <span style='color:teal'>"Good job Sylver, but next time you should look at the little things first before looking at the big stuff."</span> Asmodeus laughed, appearing from within the bowels of the ship, dressed in her uniform. <span style='color:teal'>"WeÂ’ll pick it up next time."</span>
<span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span> <table class=ooc><tr><td> Lyra Avalon~1800~Female Sorry I kind of went brain dead towards the end...</td></tr></table> Lyra Avalon was part of that gym class taking place in the cold. She had finally started to get used to the snow covered grounds but that didn’t mean that she liked it any better. It meant that she had to put on a few more layers of clothing to stay warm outside but something with enough flexibility to run through all her drills. She had thrown on a dark jacket that wasn’t exactly the warmest thing on over top of a sleeveless red top. It help that within minutes of arriving from lunch the class had started enough small exercises to keep warm. So in no time her main thoughts weren’t about keeping warm but not making a mistake in her runs. During her lesson Lyra caught herself glancing over at the small racing ship at the other side of the field. She didn’t know really anything about ships but ever since she had gotten interested in Menlo matches she had become interested in other electronics. Training as a warrior was starting to bore her, there were so many options out there but she didn’t think she was ready for a change. So she decided that she would open her views on things at the school, she wasn’t sure if racing at high speed was her thing but maybe she could learn a bit from this pilot. The gym class was pretty much over and done with. Most of the other students were cooling down or packing up to go. The black femme walked over to where her bag was sitting on a table and swung in onto her back. She didn’t have a class immediately so she wandered over to the ship where the two workers there seemed to be finishing up. She stopped a few feet from the ship, almost afraid that it would brake if she touched it and she didn’t want to get in trouble with someone who wasn’t her teacher. She lifted her head up towards the teacher in the pilot’s chair. <span style='color:9933ff'>“It’s a nice ship you have here, you get the chance to fly it often?"</span> She didn’t know how much time teachers got to themselves these days and it would be a sad thing if the machine had to sit inside all day. She knew the joy of flying with wings but she heard that in a ship you could go much faster. It would defiantly be something to get a rush from. Lyra had not paid much attention to the kid she took to be the student, thinking he was just another ‘dragon in the big school. No one she had met before. Her violet eyes were moving across the ship she stood besides trying to get a good idea of how well it flew. She had notice the constant revving of the engine near the end of class but hadn’t even noticed the sound of the bolt. She just thought they were working on it in some way she didn’t understand.
Asmodeus was the first to spot the approaching student, offering up a friendly wave and an amiable grin. Hopping off the low steps that hung below The Fibajm’s door, she wandered over to stand beside her apprentice, giving him a playful nudge in the ribs. Adjusting her many-pocketed vest so it hung a little more comfortably from her pocket, Asmo threw a loving glance towards her ship. <span style='color:teal'>“Fly ‘er every chance I get. Which is usually everyday, at the least."</span> She purred, uppermost set of arms folding over her narrow chest. Sylverstryx rolled his eyes, hands busy buckling up the straps on the front of his long coat. He recognized Lyra from the Menlo match from the previous summer. She was pretty good. For a girl. <span style='color:firebrick'>“Hey Lyra. Long time no see."</span> Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the most accurate thing to say. After all, he had seen her on occasion, whenever they passed each other in the halls between classes or maybe a glimpse or two in the cafeteria. Their groups of friends didn’t seem to run into each other that much, which was probably why he hadn’t seen her since the match. Asmodeus took note of the fact her student and the girl knew each other, assuming they were friends or something like that. <span style='color:teal'>“I’m only a part time teacher ‘ere really, private lessons for those interested in Tech. Engineering. I’m a full time pilot outside of the classroom."</span> She explained, gesturing to Stryx with one of her free hands. <span style='color:teal'>“Sparks here is my newest buddy, ‘e wants to get into my flight crew once ‘e’s graduated. ‘E’s going to replace the gal who retired last year."</span> Asmodeus threw a roguish wink in Sylver’s direction at the mention of his nickname, a cocky grin plastered on her feline muzzle. <span style='color:teal'>“Me name’s Asmodeus, but I like to be called Risqué. Call me what you wish though, I’m always open to new nicknames."</span>
