Chapter Text
Welcome to Zadash University, your typical urban-suburban college in Exandria. Wizards, Clerics, Rogues, Monks. Loners, lovers, and the In-and-Out Crowd rub sleep out of their eyes and head for the main building. You don’t have to look too hard to see Yasha Nydoorin. She is really fucking tall, you know? Black and white hair, bits of it braided, and part of her face has this tattoo. She is just getting out of an incredibly beat up grey Jeep Wrangler (not that she can’t afford something nicer). There’s all these lightning bolts painted across the hood and down the side. The license plate reads “StormLord”. When Yasha gets out of her car, you can see that she is wearing baggy grey sweatpants and balancing a cup of coffee and a backpack as she makes her way towards the main building of the college. She’s actually really pretty, right? If you look past the sweatpants. Or how intimidatingly tall she was. I think I saw a rather large stain on them. Almost like it’s deliberate, how badly she’d dressed. Her posture is slouched, like she’s uncomfortable with her height.
Someone on a skateboard zooms past Yasha, not paying attention, and clips her. She stumbles a little and spills her coffee… and the entirety of the contents of her backpack. Excellent. She’s muttering several rather unique curses under her breath in Celestial as she bends down to gather her things. She doesn’t even bother with the added stain to her pants. It adds to the whole look she’s going for, honestly. The skateboarder runs over to help, but pales when he sees who he hit. “ Shit , sorry-” he starts, kneeling down to pick up some of Yasha’s scattered stuff. His hands are visibly shaking and Yasha scoffs.
“Leave it,” Yasha’s voice is flat and unamused. The skateboarder keeps trying to pick up Caleb’s books. He won’t make eye contact with her. “I said leave it! ” She sntaches the kid’s skateboard, grabbing him by the scruff of his neck and shoving him against a car. She pushes the end of the skateboard under his chin, against his throat and he whimpers a little bit. Yasha scoffs again and releases him. She spins around and marches into the school, ignoring the crowds as they part for her or the sound of the over-large ornate doors of the main building of Zadash University as they slam behind her. She isn’t proud of her display, but it’s what people expect from her.
So... that was Yasha Nydoorin. Pleasant, isn't she? A great, big ball of sunshine. Would you believe me if I told you she has a secret love of flowers? That she’s actually a giant softie? That she hates that people assume the worst about her because she looks like she can bench press a Buick? No? Well, you’ve only just met her. I don’t blame you. There’s still time. Yasha has got a sibling, of sorts. Let’s meet him, shall we?
Mollymauk Tealeaf is beautiful. He is absolutely gorgeous , and he definitely knows it. He likes to think that the shade of lavender his skin is the perfect shade of purple. He’s pierced his curled horns and pointed ears and adorned them with so much silver and gold so that every time he turns his head, he jingles very softly. He would rather be caught dead than wearing stained, grey sweatpants to class. He probably doesn’t even own stained, grey sweatpants. He’s currently in the girls’ room, facing the mirror and applying black lipstick to his upper lip. It’s a rather flawless application. Mollymauk also knows this.
His best friend, Jester Lavorre, who isn’t absolutely gorgeous but instead absolutely adorable is standing next to him. She’s fluffing her blue hair and sticking her tongue out at Molly when he isn’t looking at her. She isn’t wearing any makeup at all, and that’s partly because it would hide her absolutely adorable freckles and partly because she has absolutely no patience to do any of that.
“Did you change your hair, darling?” Molly cocks an eyebrow at Jester. Jester wrinkles her nose.
“No.”
“You might wanna think about it, love,” Molly winks at Jester through the mirror and she shoves him playfully. They leave the bathroom arm in arm and they are immediately swarmed by people. Molly absolutely preens under all the attention, reaching a perfectly manicured hand out and patting someone’s cheek as he passes. He seems to know everyone’s name and what’s going on in their life. Jester, still linked bodily with Molly, subtly trips someone with her tail and the two snigger to themselves as they walk away.
“I really don’t know how you do all that all the time, really,” Jester tells Molly, rolling her eyes. Molly tweaks Jester’s nose playfully.
“I’m a slut for attention, darling.”
“No, Molly,” Jester says seriously, leaning forward so they’re nose to nose, “you’re actually just a slut, actually.” They’re both quiet for a moment as they stare at each other unblinkingly before they burst into laughter, collapsing against each other.
Well, now. We’ve met two siblings (and one very best friend), and they really aren’t alike at all are they? Personally, I don’t know how anyone can stand Mollymauk. He seems terribly vain, doesn’t he? There’s probably not much more to him. He probably doesn’t have a deep seated fear of loneliness that forces him to reach out and grab at the wrong kinds of attention while also rejecting any affection from anyone who might actually be good for him and treat him as something other than an object. That would be silly… right ?
There’s a few more characters we should meet, though. I think you’ll like the next one. He’s in the guidance counselor’s office. Why don’t we pop over there, and see what he’s up to?
His name is Caleb Widogast. He’s sitting in a blue plastic chair, and he’s trying very hard not to hyperventilate or to fidget. He reaches for a weird amulet at his chest, under his plain blue flannel, clutching it as if it’s a lifeline and counts backwards from fifteen in his head. He’s waiting for the guidance counselor, a man by the name of Shakäste to arrive and give him information on his transfer. Caleb looks… well, he looks tired. He looks worn down, and kind of dirty. Purposefully dirty, though. There’s a smudge on his nose that’s almost meticulous looking though. Weird, right?
The door to the guidance counselor’s office creaks open and Shakäste comes into the room. Shakäste is a very interesting looking man. Caleb is almost positive he’s blind, and the little hummingbird flitting around the man’s curly white hair is his familiar. Caleb feels like it might be a little rude to ask, though.
Shakäste sits down at his desk in front of Caleb and Caleb lets out a shaky sigh. Shakäste gives Caleb a warm smile, “I’m sure you won’t find Zadash Univeristy much different from the Solstryce Academy,” Shakäste slow drawl couldn’t sooth the icy sliver of fear shooting through Caleb that the name of his old school had caused. He did his best not to visibly react. “Same little asswipe motherfuckers everywhere.” Shakäste’s face never loses its pleasant smile and his tone never changes from its deep and calming drone. It’s enough to startle a nervous laugh out of Caleb, who immediately tries to cover it up with a cough and fidgets uncomfortably in his little plastic seat. Shakäste smiles. “Any questions?” Caleb shakes his head mutely. “Then go forth. I’ve got deviants to see, baby.”
As Caleb is getting up to leave, he sees a taller (not as tall as Yasha, mind you) tan girl with an undercut leaning against the door jamb. She’s got this lithe frame that’s rippling with muscle underneath it and Caleb isn’t really sure if there’s a dress code here or not, but if there is then the sports bra and leggings she’s wearing probably won’t cut it. She lifts one eyebrow at Caleb and smirks. Her eyebrow has one slit in it, which means she’s either very cool or is into girls. Maybe both. Probably both. Caleb’s reasonably intimidated and gives her a wide berth as he makes his way towards the exit of Shakäste’s office.
Shakäste pulls out a parchment file and sighs deeply. “Beauregard Lionett, our weekly little meetings are starting to become too much of a habit, baby.”
“I missed you.”
“It says here you were brawling in the cafeteria again.”
“It was a friendly match! How was I supposed to know they were weepers ?”
“A friendly match… in the campus cafeteria... involving half the football team?”
“ Weepers ,” Beau hisses again, rolling her eyes.
Shakäste pinches the bridge of his nose. He takes a deep, cleansing breath that only Beauregard Lionett makes him take. He motions for her to come and sit in front of him. Beau shrugs, unaffected, and moves to do so as Caleb leaves the office and runs face-first into a very handsome half-orc. Caleb has to crane his neck to look up at him, opening his mouth to stutter out an apology. The half orc gives Caleb a kind smile, and says in a low southern drawl, “You the new kid?” Caleb huffs out a dry laugh.
“Uh, ja , so they keep telling me.” The half orc holds out a hand.
“Fjord.” Caleb shakes his hand, trying not to think about his sweaty palm. Fjord is very handsome. Tall, broad shouldered and he carries himself in a confident way that Caleb is sure he’ll never achieve.
“Let’s go, I’m supposed to give you the tour,” Fjord waits until Caleb gestures for him to start walking before he turns around, “So… which Zemni Field are you from?”
“Uhh- that’s not-”
The half orc chuckles, “I know. I was kidding. But do people actually live in Blumenthal?” Caleb laughs, a little strained.
“ Ja . A couple. We are outnumbered by the flower population, though.” Fjord snorts.
“How many people were in your old school?” Caleb knows that he’s talking about the small college at Blumenthal, not the Academy he had been at previously. Caleb barely refrains from stumbling over nothing, and schools his face into something resembling nonchalance.
“ Zweiunddreißig , ah, thirty-two.” The half-orc laughs louder, nudging Caleb with his shoulder.
“No fuckin’ way.”
“Uh… ja . Way. How many people go here?”
“Dunno, couple thousand? Most of ‘em evil.” Caleb makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. Given his past experience, he highly doubts that but lets it slide. He knows the man was just over-exaggerating. Caleb’s eyes trail over the walls, taking in sign up flyers for all sorts of various collegiate activities and something called the “Hour of Honor” dance. Fjord maneuvers through crowds of people easily and Caleb has to pick up speed to keep up. Fjord points a green finger at a cluster of very athletic looking people wearing blue jackets.
“We’ve got your standard monks. Unless they talk to you first, don’t bother.” Caleb snorts his amusement quietly. He really was not planning on it. Fjord continues down the campus, passing a cluster of Firbolgs, all with pink hair and soft grey fur. One of them was wearing a big straw hat covered in flowers and some strange kind of lichen on it. He lifts one large hand in greeting and the tips of Fjord’s ears turn a coppery color. Fjord coughs into his fist uncomfortably, “That’s the Clay family. They’re… weird.”
“Weird I am used to.” Fjord laughs and shakes his head.
“Not weird like Caduceus, you’re not,” Fjord says and Caleb isn’t sure how to respond to that, so he doesn’t say anything. They pass by a little coffee stand, one of those crappy fake Starbucks things that won’t accept your gift cards but will end up sucking you dry by the end of the semester. There’s a couple people huddled around it. One little goblin girl is visibly shaking and she’s holding a cup that looks bigger than she is. She turns over-large yellow eyes on Caleb and Fjord, pupils the size of tea saucers. She grins at them, baring a mouthful of tiny razor teeth. Fjord sighs, “To the right we have the Coffee Kids. Very Edgy. Don’t make any sudden movements around them. Especially Nott, because I’m pretty sure she’s armed. Also, check your pockets whenever she walks by. Sticky fingers, if you know what I mean.” Caleb smirks a little at the ground as they continue past. Caleb does know what Fjord means.
Fjord takes Caleb through a side door of the main campus building and across the manicured lawn. He points out more groups of people as he continues along. “These are your classic Clerics. Big Jesus fans and the like.” Caleb raises an eyebrow at Fjord.
“Aren’t you a… paladin?” Fjord winces a little.
“Ah… no. Warlock, actually.” Caleb hums in acknowledgment and they continue walking.
Fjord shows Caleb where the dorms are, and they don’t look too terrible. The air conditioning is shoddy at best, but Caleb’s pretty sure he could manage to find a spell or two in the library that would work once the summer came through in full swing. The library Caleb makes immediate note to come back later. He can’t afford to get lost in it too much, and it doesn’t seem to interest Fjord nearly as much as Caleb.
He reluctantly walks away. He’s turning around to walk out back out the library door when a flash of lavender catches his eye. He distantly hears Fjord saying his name, but it sounds like he’s speaking underwater. Caleb is completely enraptured by a purple tiefling walking by. He’s wearing the most ostentatious out Caleb’s ever seen, a brightly colored coat trailing behind him. He turns his head to laugh at something a little blue tiefling girl next to him says and it’s like the world around Caleb goes into slow motion. He has these pupiless scarlet eyes that feel bottomless. He’s got more gold and silver jewelry adorning his horns and delicately pointed ears than Caleb’s ever seen in his life. Caleb is also pretty sure that he’s catching flies, his jaw is open so wide.
“That tiefling… I-” Caleb tugs on the sleeve of Fjords hoodie, causing the man to chuckle.
“You burn? You pine? You perish?” Caleb flushes at Fjord’s words.
“Who are they?”
“He’s Mollymauk Tealeaf. Senior. Don’t even think about it.” Caleb’s face twisted a little. Mollymauk Tealeaf. Caleb didn’t even stand a chance in any hell with him, but he couldn’t help but think about it. He couldn’t help but think about it a lot.
“Why not?”
“I’d start with a haircut. Maybe wash your face? You’ve got a little but of mud right- no, not there. Yeah, there. Yeah, you got. Also, he’s not allowed to date until his sister does,” Fjord laughs until he realizes Caleb wouldn’t get the joke and hasn’t joined in, “It’s an impossibility,” Fjord elaborates, entirely unhelpfully.