<h4>Out of Character</h4> Who: http://shadowlack.com/persona.php?id=12Stormwing</a> and http://shadowlack.com/persona.php?id=8Yang Sunhawk</a>. What: A private, hands-on session for learning engineering and machina technology. Where: A "study base" somewhere on the Janardan grounds. When: Around noon, Tessera, Day 45, Year 81378 (4). Rated: PG-13, just because. <h4>In Character</h4> Soft music caused frosted ears to flicker, and Stormwing stirred, breaking free from an ensnaring reverie. Her eyes, previously fogged with webs of thought, became clear once more, and she sat up to look around. She was sitting in a seat in the academy's front foyer, between two office doors. It was stark and quiet here, except for the serene thrum of music that had caused the young pendragon to startle from her pondering. Nobody lurked in the corridor, despite the many offices and officials that harbored here. All was stark and still, and for lack of anything better to do, Storm' allowed herself to slump again, slipping once more into a deep think. Thoughts roiled in her mind, and she tried to find the one she'd been considering before her abrupt return to cognizance. It had had something to do with... Ah, Shadowlack. Mismatched oculars flashed without the femme being aware, and her body subconsciously stiffened, muscles becoming cold at the mere thought of the name. Once a majestic, fearsome label that brought her pride, now it was more like an icy thorn in her side. There were several reasons for this change. Though her adoration of Kakos' had not waned in the least, the young Stormwing had begun to realize just how bad a crowd with which she was running. What with her newfound endeavors, hanging out with the wrong people could be crippling to her career. What was more, she was absolutely tired of the stigma that she was attached to, simply because of that hybrid word. Students at the academy were prejudiced either for or against her, and it disgusted her. Storm' wanted to stand out, of course, but not in such a way. She wanted to be known for doing good. Her bad streak had faded, and now she wanted to break free from her binds, find her wings, and soar. That was, in fact, not too far from the downright truth. Though she had long since retired from using her own feathery wings as a mode of transportation, her interest in the skies had not dimmed. In fact, it had become a point of intense interest for her lately. So much so, that she'd dropped her former trades, and taken up three new ones. Piloting, technical engineering, and drafting. Such extreme courses, yet she was willing to take on the challenge. It would distract her from her "obligations" to other organizations, per se, especially because she'd also enrolled in the U.S.R. to put her trades to applicable use. It wasn't just a mild change for her, this trade-changing. It was an incredible switch, a completely new leaf to turn over. Now, she surfaced once more from her thoughts, hoisted herself up, and looked around again. All these mixed thoughts about her new trades had reminded her once more on why she was here. She was waiting for her instructor to arrive, a reputed professor of technology and engineering. She had opted to schedule some private, hands-on lessons with him, and he had promised to take her to a place where they could not only talk about machina, but look at and work on it as well. Expectant excitement rippled through her as she thought about the day ahead, and how much she was looking forward to this new lifestyle. She'd been so thrilled about it, she'd even gone to a thrift store earlier to buy some old clothes to wear when she worked on machina, and right now she was wearing some of her purchases — patchy utility jeans along with a white tank top. Then, because she'd saved so much cash buying secondhand apparel, she'd allowed herself to splurge on an awesome toolbelt, made of navy material interwoven with white stitching. It was very feminine, though still true to task, and white fingers wandered over its fabric as she took up waiting once more.
<span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span> <table class=ooc><tr><td>Sorry, Kat, I've been so distracted lately and I completely forgot I needed to reply to this. x<; ... and this is somewhat short. But very Yang, I think.</td></tr></table><font color=tan> Yang was rather unsure of how things worked at Janardan. He was not the sort of teacher who slipped easily into the mold of being an adult, using his intelligence to keep his students in awe. As a matter of fact, already he had made it clear to anyone who was being taught by him that his teaching style was quite informal. More like a good friend might assist another in the ways of a trade, if they were both interested in the same sort of things. Not that he didn’t give them a lot of information to digest, simply that it wasn’t rattled out in traditional text book fashion. It just wasn’t comfortable for him. He liked to be able to move around the room, to see what other pendragons thought. Though, like almost all teachers, he did not tolerate a lack of attention from those he was teaching. If he was going to waste his time with them – even if it was only because mom and dad wanted them to learn these fields – then they were going to pay attention. He wouldn’t even be against knocking a few thick skulls together, if it was permitted. Back in the Tribes, it would have been, but he was rather sure that corporal punishment was not acceptable here on the Academy grounds. Yet he had agreed to having private classes with a new student. Dear gods above, what had he been thinking? If this was another one of those sullen rich teens, he was going to die of annoyance. Of course he had met the young lady, briefly, when these were scheduled, and he had agreed to them. But there was always the chance that her politeness only lasted while she was in the midst of doing her parents’ bidding. Once she was outside of the room, setting this up, perhaps she would be an entirely different young lady. So he had come here expecting a rebellious, sullen teen, though he would be grateful to see otherwise. It was just better to expect the worse and be wrong than to be optimistic and come in to be disappointed. That had already happened far too many times for the Sunhawk to appreciate the idea of doing it again. It was actually not the sort of thing he liked to dwell on at all. Her personality would show itself in due time and he had no reason or purpose in judging her before the time had come. The burly pendragon smiled very slightly as he approached the young lady, though, as he saw what she was wearing. Not the sort of high stuff that he had seen some rich kids wear and definitely not the worst gear, either. That belt was quite nice, but the worn down clothing was appropriate for what they were going to be doing. So it was without any concerns or qualms that he approached her, nodding in approval. That was when his grin broke out. It was the sort of smile that involved anyone who saw it and he was well known for it with the Sunhawks. It was said that there wasn't a pendragon on the earth who Yang Sunhawk couldn't get to smile. And it was probably true. He was just cheerful like that. So cheerful, it spread to everyone around him like a disease - though a good disease, if it was, in fact, akin to that. <font color=darkorange>"Stormwing… well, you look ready. Not like half of the students that I get these days. All half-ar"</font> There he paused, realizing he was about to curse in front of a student, and rapidly changed his vocabulary. <font color=darkorange>"All half committed kids, only there because mum and dad said to be. Shall we, then?"</font> The Sunhawk said, nodding in the direction that they were going to be headed within a few moments.
When the soft cacophony of music was finally interrupted by the sound of approaching feet, Stormwing's fingers paused on a fine line of alabaster stitching, and her musculature froze for a split second. Then her sharp ears flicked as her cranium angled upwards, and she peered with glimmering eyes up the corridor. To be quite truthful, she was not sure what exactly to be looking for. She knew the professor was a male, and not too elderly, but otherwise she knew very little about his physical appearance. She'd been referred to him by her recruiter, and had signed up for this session via letters in his teacher's mailbox. Today would be the first time she ever laid eyes on his corporeal form. Hence, it was with a slightly baffled and curious expression that she pointed her banded muzzle up the hallway and quested with mismatched oculars. It wasn't long before a pendragon swerved into view, looking somewhat perturbed, his gait even as he padded towards her. Not sure it was the right person, but nevertheless wanting to be polite, Storm' stood. When the male neared her, then stopped, she knew he was the right guy. The professor she had been waiting for. She opened her maw to speak, but he beat her to the punch, and blathered something about other students. The young female blinked in mild surprise, then regained her cool, smiling and nodding at the teacher. "I know what you mean. I'm not here on mommy and daddy's money, nor on their will. I have no parents to fund me or tell me what to do. I'm here on my own free will. And you'll soon find I'm an eager and creative student with a quick mind. I love to learn. So won't you show me what you know?" It was true that Stormwing had changed quite a bit lately, shedding her layers of rot to be replaced with a shining new skin of healthy influence. Yet, she would never really be stripped of her attitude. As she spoke to Yang Sunhawk, her eyes were pinned to his in an unwavering fashion, and there was definitely a tricky lilt in her voice. Nonetheless, her words were mostly harmless, and when she was finished articulating her piece, she followed his wandering gaze up the hallway. He was obviously wishing to lead her to the study base, and she nodded her head slowly. She was ready to follow.
