Reading Class: Session 1 [AFTERNOON]

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[atrb=vAlign,top][atrb=style,background-color: #454545; padding: 25px 10px 0px 0px;] AST AND FREE FOLLOW ME Save your tears for the day when our pain is far behind. on your feet, come with me, we are soldiers stand or die

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,470,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: #454545; padding: 0px 20px 10px 20px; border-radius: 0px 0px 0px 8px; border-left: #5C246E 8px solid;] █ TAGS something █ WORDS something █ NOTES something TEXT COLOR IS 5C246E The door to Class Winter Moon was propped open by a chair that had been pulled out from one of the spare desks. Stacked on it were sheets of syllabi to the class that Dianne Ayers had elected to teach- A Literary Exploration of the Human Psyche. She had hoped that it sounded abstract and yet at the same time overwhelmingly complicated enough to drive most people to choose a seemingly less intensive course for their liberal arts requirement. Truth be told she had very little interest in anything the students could have to offer, and she was even less inclined to have to divulge whatever she thought she knew on the subject, but such were the terms of the arrangement she had set. They hadn't allowed her to head a PE class and certainly not a combat training course, but even with the artsy foo foo subject she had been relegated to, she would make sure that all business was conducted seriously. It didn't mean, however, that she was about to act stuffy and overbearing. Dressed in dark jeans and a leather jacket half zipped to reveal a white shirt and with its sleeves rolled up, the teacher herself was reclining in a chair and fiddling with an iPad set on her crossed knees as the students made their way in. Her purple polarized sunglasses were still perched in her bright violet hair. She still hadn't looked up since people first started taking their seats, even though her chair had been angled to directly face the door. The projector screen had already been pulled down over the blackboard. The slide it was currently displaying contained only the title of the class, splashed upon an ordinary white background. MADE BY AYU OF BACK TO NEVERLAND (x)

Classes on the human psyche. Hardly an expected course at a place dedicated to teaching kids to exorcise demons, but at least it was interesting. Felix had heard, of course, that Kishin were somehow related to abnormal psychology. The details were a bit fuzzy, to the point where he had his doubts they were even true. As if monsters as twisted as the Kishin could be formed by humans with mental defects alone. Why, the thought of it being that easy was terrifying.

But enough of being terrified. It was time for Felix Egret, the most awesome weapon in the DWMA, to get his academia on. Triumphantly, he entered the room, as if to say "I have arrived." This was further driven home, as the next thing he saw clear to do was announce "I... have arrived" in a clear, strong voice. Of course, at the time, the room was not all that packed, and he knew, logically, that those who were in the room probably would not care all that much, given his lack of reputation around these parts. Still, if one wanted to be the king, one had to get used to the weight of one's crown, did they not?

Taking his seat in the nearest convenient seat (one which, incidentally, guaranteed clear line of sight to him from as much of the room as he could manage), he scanned the syllabus that he had grabbed from the entrance and looked over his new teacher. Was she one of those meister folks? Truth be told, Felix was finding he was having a hard time getting a lock on them one way or the other. Usually, he could not tell the difference between a meister and a human weapon unless one of them started sprouting blades or chains or something equally barbarous and horrifiying. Seriously, why could nobody think to turn into a nice, not dangerous looking weapon, like he had? Perhaps it fell on him to inject some artistry into the whole deal.

But enough of the self-appointment as the DWMA's only link to civility. It was time, he reminded himself, for academia.

He woke.

Five O' clock as he usually did just mere seconds before his alarm went off. With a quick motion of his left arm, Drake reached over hitting the 'Off' button. The Demon Weapon had a long day ahead of him. Today was the day he started classes. Having browsed the available courses he settled with something a bit less... Traditional. The blue haired weapon couldn't help but indulge in things he didn't know. He was well versed in combat so learning something abstract was sure to make him stronger right?

Right before class, he made his way through DWMA's halls. He stopped by the lunch room picking up something to eat. Something quick and nutritious. An Italian sub with a banana and a bottle of spring water.

He ate.

O' clock passed and soon the hours began to fly. Because of Drake's harsh training methods one would think of him to be a meat head. A brute with no knowledge. Wrong. Drake was taught to be studious and well informed so picking up a book on his way to class more than warranted. Drake had previously searched the library for a book on the class course before even entering. It was then that he started studying relevant information just hours before the class would began.

He entered.

The classroom was meagerly filled. He could tell that it was about to start soon. Aqua flavored orbs danced around the room before settling on the teacher as he walked across the classroom. Her appearance was a bit unsettling. She seemed well knowledgeable but her presence was less than inviting. In fact, she looked as if she could careless. However.

Moreover.

The demon shield would take his seat in the front row in the center after grabbing a syllabus from the pile. He reached into his black DWMA backpack and pulled out a notebook, a pencil, a pen, the book he got from the library, and sat back in his chair reading the course title that laid before him on the projector screen with the disturbingly bland white background.

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Andrew had been up for a few hours now, which was unusual for him. That is...It would be unusual if he hadn't been on Adderall for the past two days. The young Demon Weapon was well aware that his first class for Shibusen was going to start soon, and he figured that taking a whole bunch of the psychostimulants would allow him more time to study. Andrew knew that he wasn't a good student, and studying a little before the classes actually began wouldn't hurt. While his intentions were good, he spent most of the time that he was under the influence playing trash can basketball, and other non-academic activities. The result was a ridiculous amount of man-hours spent doing nothing useful, and a Demon Weapon whose body was about to shut down, if he didn't start hallucinating first. Luckily he had remembered to eat, and drink or there might have been a different result.

The Demon Fishing Rod picked himself up from the ground, and walked right out of his dorm room. Being who he was, it wasn't necessary for him to get dressed, and he honestly didn't even remember that he hadn't eaten breakfast. Hopefully it would wear off by tonight, and then he'd be able to sleep for a couple days. At least...He hoped that it would take that long. The Demon Weapon had actually forgotten how many he took, and how long ago it was...but he was sure that they would wear off by today at least. While he tried to walk to his class he began to notice a slight change in his perception. The walls seemed to be breathing, as they made a slight movement from inside to outside, as would one's chest as the lungs took in air. The Weapon had seen far worse before, though...So he disregarded it, and made his way to the class that he had chosen.

The Weapon figured that any literature class would be easy at first, because he was used to just reading a bunch of books, and then turning in a quick response about how it made him feel. While he wasn't very good at articulating his thoughts, he had quite a few of them, and for the most part the teacher acknowledged his effort, and good insight. Though this time around he wasn't so sure...Andrew didn't really like the idea of studying human psychology, because he had already done a fair amount of that in his travels, and the Weapon usually didn't like what he saw. Studying it in depth would probably wind up depressing him.

As he walked into the class, he noticed a strong looking, purple haired woman sitting behind the desk. Though she wasn't sitting in a normal position...She seemed to be sitting sideways. Andrew didn't feel like questioning her, as to whether or not she was actually sideways, so he walked to the back where he hoped that he wouldn't be noticed. Not only did he dislike attention, but he found that people who sat around him usually fell asleep in class...Even if they were good students. He would hate to burden them in any way. Though the stairs seemed to last for hours, he finally made it to spot that seemed to be vacant, and far enough away.

In reality the Weapon had walked up two steps, and sat right in the front of the room.

It was quite the normal day for Malek. Waking up in his dorm room, eating breakfast, playing the violin. He had been practicing a slow and sad piece. It somehow resembled his mood, he thought. Though he wasn't sad, but -as usual- bored.
With this mood going on he went for his morning classes. This time around, they had training sessions. Running, resonance training, matching wavelengths, combat training. And the like more. And as usual Malek couldn't participate in at least half of the things that were practiced or just not as good as if he had a partner. And it seemed like the other weapons and meisters without established teams avoided him, the same as ever. Though Malek had no idea WHY he was being avoided. Was he scary? Did he seem to be a gloomy guy? He didn't know. And that bugged him.
He wanted to know he was being avoided. Was he that different? Or maybe they somehow found about him and his past? He didn't know. He wanted to know. But he wasn't brave enough to ask, or maybe it was his usual laziness? Whatever the reason, he was alone again the entire morning.

Without him noticing time flew by and lunchtime came.
So he just went to the cafeteria and got the usual stuff. He didn't even care what he ate. In his head he was already sitting in his next class. His first afternoon class. A literature class about human psychology. Maybe he would get to know what made him different from other people? He hoped so.
Or he would get to know what exactly was wrong with HIM? He knew that he wasn't normal in his head. Though his psychiatrist had told him that he was "cured". But what was his illness exactly? And why did music have such an influence on him?

Many questions wandered through his mind. And so it came that he nearly missed the class bell. He quickly grabbed his stuff and hurried to his classroom. Winter Moon it was called. Who the heck would think of such a name? Whatever, he just came in time, grabbing a syllabus from the stack of sheets at the door and then quickly entering the room. It was already quite full. And the teacher somehow gave him chills. She seemed to be not like the usual teachers...
Whatever. He quickly sat himself in the second row. With a good view at the screen and everything.... Was he imagining it or where some of the people giving him stares? Ah of course... He was a new student, and he was wearing a mouth-mask. He must be looking pretty awkward...

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[atrb=vAlign,top][atrb=style,background-color: #454545; padding: 25px 10px 0px 0px;] AST AND FREE FOLLOW ME Save your tears for the day when our pain is far behind. on your feet, come with me, we are soldiers stand or die

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,470,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: #454545; padding: 0px 20px 10px 20px; border-radius: 0px 0px 0px 8px; border-left: #5C246E 8px solid;] █ TAGS something █ WORDS something █ NOTES something TEXT COLOR IS A040ff This was Round 2 of testing her already extremely limited tolerance for teaching and caring and stifling structure. She had expected the students to come in groggy and unwilling to do anything but sit and digest, though Dianne wasn't masochistic enough to leave the AC off. She would have to suffer along with them, after all. When she removed her sunglasses, she looked upon the exceptionally crowded front row of students with a flat expression. She was dead certain that one of them was still drugged out of his mind, the one who had decided to sit directly in front of her so that his absent expression met hers. "Good afternoon," she greeted, though her voice lacked any warmth or pep to even quality it as anything more than an obligatory opening statement. "This is the afternoon session A Literary Exploration of the Human Psyche." Remaining in her leisurely posture, Dianne tapped at her iPad as she went through the presentation slides on display. "Thisis obviously a reading class, which entails analyzing and discussing the selected novels: Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness, and so on and so forth. I hated these books when I had to read them in school and this is my gift to you, that you may also be overcome with the urge to throw them against a wall the moment you see their covers." "Participation in class discussions will be 25% of your grade while weekly essay assignments total up to 15%. You will have a 5-7 page paper on each of the novels that we have read, as well as a group presentation. I will accept no late work and no emailed assignments. Attendance and tardiness will also count towards your participation grade." "As stated in the title of the class itself, we will be looking to the literary tradition to see how Madness and falling to Madness is a recurring theme in the human condition. That's right, it's not enough to merely combat it in the field- you will also be dissecting it in art so that you may become the well-rounded students your parents are paying for you to be. You will study the character's mental and emotional processes and analyze what thought trains are leading them to react to their specific circumstances in the way that they are. There is logic and reasoning behind Madness. For each afflicted individual, they see it as the best way to deal with the world they think they are inhabiting. Life rarely makes sense but in fiction, readers' expectations for clarity and neatly tied ends means we have plenty of fodder to dissect it to our hearts content." "Are there any questions?" MADE BY AYU OF BACK TO NEVERLAND (x)

Without her parents to baby her, Clara was forced to take care of herself. Unfortunately, she had yet to learn how to properly manage her time. She decided to spend some time wandering the streets of Death City after her last class, but by the time she had to go to class, she was five blocks away from the school. Now had the school been built like the rest of the buildings, she might have made it on time. However, some genius thought it’d be a great idea to put the school on top of a hill.

Huffing and puffing, she sprinted up the stairs, into the school, and through the halls, until she finally reached Class Winter Moon. Her hair was much messier than usual, and her clothes were out of place. Plus, her face was beet red from all the running. “I know I’m late, Theodore,” she mumbled to the teddy bear strapped to her back. “But I’m not that late, so I may as well make myself look a bit more presentable.” She took a moment to catch her breath and adjust her clothes. The meister stepped into the classroom.

There was a stack of syllabi at the front table. Hastily, she grabbed a sheet and sat down at the nearest open seat, which happened to be next to this kid with a mask. This whole ordeal was embarrassing, especially since the teacher didn’t look too pleased. To top it all off, the guy beside her looked downright terrifying. Seriously, who let this guy in here? Well, it was too late, so she ended focusing all her attention to the syllabus.

It seemed like Malek had hit the nail on the head with this class, because they were going to deal with exactly that theme Malek had hoped they would. Madness. That was one of his primary goals, the other was to get to know what his mental illness was, or at least which one it resembled. The teacher seemed to be a kinda strange one, though. Or was it normal for teachers to be so unserious? He didn't know... and it would be better not to ask about that, he thought.
Just as the teacher finished her speech, a fussy looking girl with messy, long black hair walzed into the classroom and sat itself right next to him.
She would definitely get scolded any moment now... poor girl. She gave Malek a short stare, then turned to her syllabus.
Was she frightened of him? Well, ok. He was a bit strange, but to be terrified by just looking at him? So he was a scary guy after all? But the others in the room didn't seem to be frightened at all... wait a sec, looking closer at her, Malek perceived a Teddy strapped to her back... a friggin teddy. And it was in pretty bad shape, too. Why the hell did she bring a teddy? She had to be another weirdo, in addition to that drugged out one and himself. Well, whatever. Malek had wanted to ask something right before that girl came in.
"Excuse me, but will be also covering things like mental illnesses and familiar things? If I'm not wrong they're also connected to madness in some way?"

Andrew listened to her words, and tried to take everything in. It was becoming more difficult, as she made it evident that they would be doing work. The world around him still seemed to be shaking, the walls moving in, and out. Worst of it all was the fact that Andrew couldn't shake the feeling that his drugs were going to lose their affect at any moment. The boy heard the bits about assignments, and Frankenstein, but it he wasn't really sure what email was. Why wasn't she accepting their assignments through whatever it was? The fishing rod only became confused, so he rested his head on his chin, and continued to listen to her talk.

After she talked about how the would be studying Madness, the class itself seemed to make more sense, but he was still thinking about other things. The woman wanted them to read books, which wasted paper, and then write a bunch of assignments, which also wasted paper, and make hats...No. She hadn't wanted that...That was something that Andrew had thought about in the middle of her explanation, and it had somehow meshed together with the other things. The point was, the class seemed bad for the environment.

" Why do we have to waste all of this paper? I don't want to take part in anything that might hurt the trees, brah...All of these books, and essays...Can' we just do the essays orally?" She had asked if there were any questions, but sadly Andrew didn't think to raise his hand. The fishing rod had just started spurting out what was on his mind. "And why do we have to make paper hats? I've got a hat. I understand the Madness, but why are we fighting at all? Isn't it easier to jes try to calm em down, brah? Peace, and Love-" The boy again points at his hat. "That works for everything." Andrew could feel himself nodding off, but tried to stay awake. The woman probably wouldn't like it if he fell asleep, but he couldn't help yawning. "Also...What is Email?"

He moved.

Hands sliding across the notebook that lay in front of him. The pen hastily followed as it became entangled in between his index and middle finger. The pen motioning, cap uncapped and momentarily scribbling in mediocre penmanship across the cover of the book.

English 1 - A liter-

He began to write as his attention was briefly disturbed. A druggie.

Dirty.

He sighed.

The man's presence however fleeting wait-

Drake glanced over, cyan blue orbs watching the Demon Rod only to find him walk up two steps and then a take a seat not even five feet from himself.

Fuck.

A sour look played across Drake's face. It wasn't that Drake was unfriendly, he was totally open to accepting people and who they are and all that good stuff. It was just that... He wanted to do good and he felt like the guy sitting close to him would make his time in the class all the more un-enjoyable.

He motioned.

His right arm propped up, bent at the elbow so his head could fit comfortably in the palm of his hand. He looked forward giving the teacher a hundred and ten percent of his attention. Having dodged that bullet he noticed a familiar face, "Malek..." He said in a low tone. His voice trailing off as he finished the sentence. He remembered sparring with the guy a little awhile ago. The results unimportant though favorable. Last he saw of the guy, he walked off after Drake extended to him an offering of help.

He frowned.

"Good afternoon,"

The teacher's voice finally sounded. The class had officially started. She begun by talking about the course content and then about the grading system. All of it making sense as she spoke. The Demon Shield merely nodded as she spoke, his hands shifting to flipping to the first page in case anything important came up that he had to write down, though for the most part everything she said was already listed in the syllabus.

"Are there any questions?"

She finished, allowing the students to ask any questions they might have regarding the course. Drake looked around at first to see if anyone was going to speak out, when he initially thought no one would he began to raise his hand only to have Malek blurted out a question.

A good question.

It was then hastily followed by a rant from a closer druggie.

Ahem, druggie source

Closer source.

Drake would wait until the teacher responded before asking his question. It wasn't that deep.

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[atrb=vAlign,top][atrb=style,background-color: #454545; padding: 25px 10px 0px 0px;] AST AND FREE FOLLOW ME Save your tears for the day when our pain is far behind. on your feet, come with me, we are soldiers stand or die

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,470,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=style,background-color: #454545; padding: 0px 20px 10px 20px; border-radius: 0px 0px 0px 8px; border-left: #5C246E 8px solid;] █ TAGS something █ WORDS something █ NOTES something TEXT COLOR IS A040ff Dianne tilted her head slightly more towards the first row of students as Malek spoke, though froze as Andrew suddenly cut in before the first boy finished speaking to launch into his own set of demands and complaints. The woman began leaning back as though she were staring at him down her nose. Her mouth was slightly turned down at the corners. An excruciating stillness fell over the classroom as the student's jumbled and incoherent thoughts spilled out even before he had time to realize he was even having these notions, or so it seemed. She had no answer for any of the completely unrelated questions he had posed, and once the boy was finished merely uncrossed her legs to lean forward, with her elbows now resting on the large desk. Dianne brought her hands together flat and pressed them to lips as she continued to blink slowly and then not at all as she stared him down. A few nervous coughs broke out, and several students shifted in their seats. She felt their eyes shift between her face and Andrew's. She was most definitely not here for this shit. After a tense two minutes of silently judging the environmentally passionate student, she rolled her neck on her shoulders and placed her hands on the surface of the large desk. Sitting upright now, she turned to Malek and smiled, her cheeks complying with all the pliability of hard plastic. "Mental illness and recognizable symptoms of common mental illnesses will be present in these novels, though the exact connection between abnormal states of mind and Madness as well as the exact diagnoses themselves is beyond the scope of the class," Dianne said finally. "If that is something you wish to pursue as a paper topic, you are entirely free to incorporate elements of your own research and anything learned from other classes more specifically dedicated to that relationship." "Ms.-" she said, gesturing to Clara now. "Since you walked in late, if there any unclear information, now is the time to dispel your confusion." MADE BY AYU OF BACK TO NEVERLAND (x)

A voice pierced the classroom as the young demon weapon raised his hand and spoke. Whether he was acknowledged and called upon was irrelevant to him to at this point. It didn't seem like anyone else cared about classroom etiquette, even the teacher, "Will there be any fieldwork involved in this class or will we be in this classroom the whole time." Drake, however studious, was a learner through practice though given the course title he wasn't sure how much field could be given while still remaining relevant to the class. He was still hopeful that the teacher had something in mind.

Following his question his hand retracted as he shifted in his seat and repositioned himself though still remaining attentive to the teacher out of respect. His gaze, though tempted to survey the class for the smallest reaction in response to his question, stayed fixated forward. While not staring at the teacher awaiting an answer, he found himself looking at the slide that the teacher stopped on. The presentation as a whole seemed to stay uniform in its blandness ever since the first slide.

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It had been another day. He started the day with a fight, pissed people off at him, gotten plenty of training in while he could, and gotten around to spraying himself with a generous supply of body spray to cover the acrid ordor of his own sweat. Just another day getting situated into Shibusen. He'd signed up for the psych class simply for the sheer joy of getting to learn more about people

Pierce groaned as his ears were assaulted with voices when they should have been assaulted by the screeching of his alarm. Groggily he rolled over on his duffel bag which doubled as his backpack and stared at the portable alarm he had still clutched in his hand. With a muttered curse and several vaguely vulgar references to Nordic dieties he pushed himself off the floor and lifted himself lethargically into a chair at the back of the class. With a listless blue gaze he took in the rest of the class, yawned, scratched his head and gathered up his makeshift pillow.

It was a good thing he'd woken up otherwise he probably would have slept through the class altogether while waiting for it to start. He probably wasn't going to be a pleasant classmate no matter how anyone sliced it anyways. Not if he kept his current regimen at least. He came down smelling strongly of tiger balm and a cloying amount bodyspray to cover the stench of his sweat. He slithered down toward the front row and sat himself between Drake and Andrew. One hand giving both a mild wave as he took his place at the front and set his duffel under the desk. He had luckily caught most of what the teacher had said.

He raised his hand patiently and waited for the teacher to acknowledge him before speaking."It is with considerable difficulty that I remember the original era of my being; all the events of that period appear confused and indistinct. A strange multiplicity of sensations seized me and I saw, felt, heard, and smelt at the same time; and it was, indeed, a long time before I learned to distinguish beyween the operations of my various senses. Chapter eleven, first paragraph." He shrugged and ran his hand through his matted bangs as a makeshift way to brush them.

"Um, does it count as tardy if you fell asleep waiting for class to start?" He grinned sheepishly and hoped she'd be forgiving. He couldn't do anything to match her wrath if she wasn't, not to a teacher anyways. Not if he wished to continue being a student of Shibusen anyways. She looked like the sort who'd probably smack him for quoting one of the books she so hated even if he was thrilled to death he'd get to read it again. He loved that book, even had a copy in his room hidden amongst the clutter of his nightstand. Well, he hoped it was still there at least. His mother had practically raised him on that book among many other literary classics. The monster, he felt, was the character he could most closely relate to.

Elsewhile, seated in distant removal from the rest of the hither-and-thithering throngs of students, August Ashford sat alone and relatively proud. He was not late, at the very least; to one as self-conscious and stringently moralistic as himself, that was the important thing. That he was unable to penetrate even the faintest external layer of the prescribed textbook was, on the whole, largely irrelevant.

He watched as the latecomers wandered in, each one possessed of various distinct degrees of shame, embarrassment or - and this seemed to consist for the vast majority of the inward exodus - sheer and utter disinterest. In the back of his kittenesque mindset, the young lad wondered what sort of forlorn detachment from their intrinsic reality encouraged them to hold such tragic and contemptuous disregard for their studies. Surely, their very virtue of being enrolled here in the world's foremost - and, last he checked, probably sole - academy solely dedicated to the development and nurturing of burgeoning Weapon Meisters and Demon Weapons suggested they had an innate desire to learn and mature?

Probably not; at least, not necessarily. He had yet to grasp the concept that not everybody was as fully committed to the academic arts and sciences as he was. His mother often regaled to him the tale of an ant that had decided, for reasons the human mind could not reasonably fathom, that it would prove its strength by knocking over a rubber tree plant. Determined though the ant was, it was elaborated upon in the lyrics to the ancient ballad that such a desire was considered ludicrous by all and sundry - the feat was simply too extreme and beyond the ant's personal capabilities for it to be considered anything even remotely within the realms of realistic possibility.

Nevertheless, the plucky little narrative continued with the expected vim and vigour, telling the no doubt fascinated little listener about the ant's absolutely undeterred and zealous belief that it could, in fact, displace a rubber tree plant if it so desired. The song concluded with the chanting proclamation that the ant, due to an abundance of hopes that were decidedly celestial in their elevated metaphysical positioning, did indeed manage to overcome its own febrile limitations and achieve its fondest desire of uprooting and reestablishing the prepositional whereabouts of its arboreal opponent.

The tale spoke to August for a number of reasons. Perhaps the most profound reason was that he was positively tickled pink by the image of an anthropomorphised arthropod displaying the same ineffable optimism and graciously good-natured courage that he always felt he ought to exemplify. It was also because he liked insects, feeling that they were a tragically misunderrepresented species of invertebrate fauna.

So it was that he resolved that, if he ever found himself committed to a task, that he would ensure he dedicated every fiber of himself and his minute being to accomplishing the task will all due haste and expert application of his ability. Thus occupied with his own little ideologies and ponderings, he continued to wonder exactly what it was that convinced such kindred youngsters as himself that their schoolwork was, in fact, merely an optional existential abstraction and returned to endeavouring to pierce the epidermal layers of his psychological course.

Zeek rose early that morning, attending to his daily workout. The reason for starting at such an earlier time was that after returning to his dorm room, showering and redressing himself, the teen needed to head to the registration office to fill in the remain class on his schedule, before classes actually began for the day.

So there he sat...settled into a chair within the waiting area. It was a moment he dreaded for no matter what the reason he came to the office for some how he was left waiting for hours. It unnerved him how a sophisticated facility such as Shibusen still tormented students with the most tedious of processes. But it had to be done, he needed to include an additional class in order to remain a full-time student and maintain a hold of his dorm room.

Sigh.

It had to be done, and so he sat. Waiting and hoping that he'd be seen well before class started Zeek gathered the listings for the available classes. He scanned over the list taking into consideration two of the courses based off the title alone. The first was an Anatomy course, which he thought could be quite useful in improving his understanding of how the human body worked, and ultimately contribute to his training on how to better destroy the body of an opponent. The alternative was a course titled Literary Exploration of the Human Psyche. It sounded rather interesting and seemed like the more appropriate choice if he wanted to further extend his knowledge and skills. While he naturally held a great physical prowess, his mental strength had been acquired through his life's trials and from teachings from those willing to lend their knowledge. Having set his mind on the course all the was left for the demon weapon to do was wait for his turned to see a counselor.

And wait he did.

For almost two hours he sat there before the receptionist called his name and escorted him to the office of the woman he had met with during his previous visits. Luckily once he was seated within her office they were able to proceed accordingly and quickly. Especially since by the time their encounter was over his class had already begun. As fast as possible tore through the halls, unintentionally shoving a fellow student or two out of his path.

"Damn..." He breathed coming to a slow as he a approached class Winter Moon, the whole time his new schedule had been clutched tightly in his left hand. He strode through the threshold entering the classroom and surveying its interior. There was a good amount of faces in the room, most of which were seated as close as possible to the Professor's desk. As his eyes left his classmates and moved towards the professor he noticed the stack of syllabi. "Sorry for being late, I was just formally added into this class." He apologized, grabbing a piece of paper before taking a seat in the third row creating distance between himself and the other students.

He sat down letting his plain black backpack fall beside his seat. He let out a sigh and retrieved a notebook and pencil from within his bag. It appeared his tardiness had caused him to miss some slight introductions. But he didn't care about any of that at the moment. There'd be more time to get acquainted with his classmates, for now his gray eyes looked straight ahead at the woman in charge who appeared to have less interest than some of the students whose faces he had seen while moving towards his seat.

"This should be interesting." He mumbled to himself while smirking at the thought of what was to come.