Prue

:: Prudence Elizabeth Lee-- written in neat script across the top of dense, toothy paper. It wasn't the first time a letter addressed to her in full had found its way to her, but this would be the last. Prue turned to look at her bedroom window, where a downy white owl stared at her with beady, unblinking eyes. She didn't know how, but she understood that its stare was expectant. "Uh...thank you?" she asked, as if a word of thanks might do the trick and the  sturdy nocturnal bird would leave. It didn't. The owl had arrived just minutes prior, tapping intentionally on her bedroom window with a talon. Prue had been reading before bed and was startled by the presumptuous looking fowl when she glanced up to find the source of the tapping. When Prue turned the folded invitation over in her hands, the owl flapped its wings and squawked at her with urgency in it's tone. Jumping out of her skin, the bookish blonde yalped in return and exhaled in frustration. "Okay, okay." she -c
breathed with wide sky-colored eyes. She got the distinct impression it wanted her to read the letter post-haste. When she did, the instructions detailed every next move she would make for the next half-hour....starting -now-. The owl flew into her room and circled around her, plucking her scarf off of the top of her closet door and dumping it on her head as it returned to the window to perch and watch. With harsh punctuation, it clicked its tongue and literally. tapped. it's. talon. Quickly gathering her coat and shoving one foot into a boot, Prue scrambled around her room in a hurried frenzy. The owl helped, flitting from one thing to another and depositing them by the closed bedroom door. Her purse, the letter, and her gloves. Standing with one fluffy brown boot on, the girl stared in mystified awe at the pile. The owl, with no patience, squawked again to startle her out of her distraction. "I'm -going!-" she exclaimed, stuffing her foot in the other boot -c
with a defiant shove. Grabbing the belongings piled by the door and slipping them on with as much haste as she could muster amidst confusion and the whirlwind of wonder, Prudence held the letter up to read it again. "Follow the Owl." and beneath, it listed times and locations, "Just in case you become separated." With a bit of fear, mingled with a dose of curiosity, she turned back to the bird. It had flown away from her window, leaving nothing but flurries breezing through. Prue pushed the letter into her pocket and internally rolled her eyes "Just in case you become separated!" she said mockingly, to no-one in particular. "I'm not following you out the window!" she called after the owl, waiting for a few seconds after for any kind of response. Just the cold breeze. When she turned to walk out of her bedroom door, Prue glanced at the clock [ 3:20 AM] If anyone had been awake, she surely would have been interrogated on the spot. -c
By some miracle, nobody roused during the ruckus. Tiptoeing with caution through the hall, she'd chase the length of stairs in twos, not wanting to lose the bird...if it had waited. As she stepped out of her front door, the owl flew right at her, wings thrown open wide as it yelled at her impatiently. Prue's response? "AHH!" she yelled back with fierce confusion, karate-chopping at the bird in unexpected self-defense. She missed, of course. And then the owl flew in a tight circle and off they went. The girl practically had to run to keep up as it led her through gardens, along the street (even coaxing her to j-walk!) in the early hours of the morning. With great luck, it appeared nobody else was awake or crawling the streets. And if they were, they didn't seem to notice the cheerfully-dressed girl with stark white hair. Her coat was sky-blue, in a pea-coat style that floated out around her waist in a dressy full-circle. -c
Her scarf and gloves were white, but the hat was a deeper shade of blue, all accentuating the wide doll-like eyes of the infantile, willowy twenty-one-year-old. Her purse-- actually a satchel made of leather-- was brown, accounting for at least one of two muted tones in her dress. Paired with it were her boots. When faced with a stone wall, Prue stared blankly for a moment before the owl appeared over the edge of it, issuing a curt chirp. 'Hurry up!' Blinking a few times, and then passing a glance behind herself, Prue sighed and began to climb. She'd been running for what felt like an hour (it had only been twenty minutes), and half wondered why she was so compelled to follow a bird at her window at 3 in the morning. She thought she was losing it. As she climbed. Prudence began to feel a bit light headed-- the way she felt when her family had vacationed in the mountains and she'd gotten altitude sickness. -c
She paused, thinking the ground was merely a few feet away, and debated climbing back down. Perhaps the running was getting to her. When she glanced back over her shoulder, she felt a dizzying sense of vertigo grasp her by the inside of her head. She was almost thirty feet off of the ground when she looked down. The alleyway that dead-ended into the wall appeared so hazy and distant. It wavered beneath her like a mirage. She clung to the wall, feeling shakiness creep into her limbs. "Oh no." she chirped, "Oh no, oh no." Her stomach was starting to feel like it was tied in knots. When she looked up, she could see the end of the wall, just outside of a long reach. Breathing steadily, she started to move slowly up. Her climb became measured, careful, and calculated. "Hello?" she asked into the open...strangely warm air overhead. It looked to be almost noon, but when she glanced below, the alley was in total darkness. The owl cawed at her in response. -c
'Still here!' it seemed to say. When her head cleared the rocky edge of the wall, Prudence clung to it with all of her might. She threw one leg over, and then another, barely noticing anything but the welcoming spread of grass in front of her, just two feet from the top of the wall on the other side. She briefly thought about her brothers' Mario game, when Mario popped up from the underground tubes. It were as if her hometown were underground. So focused on her climb, Prue was, that she didn't notice the woman standing in front of  her when until she collapsed on the grass and knelt as if getting closer could somehow keep her safe. She didn't know how she was going to get back. "Hello, Prudence." an ominous feminine voice interjected, startling the girl. "Welcome to Hinterland."::

--
Prue
:: "Make it move." she had been instructed. With determination on her brow, Prue walked over to the table where a glass marble (conjured out of thin air by the Headmistress) sat motionless. Lifting a delicate hand, the willowy infantile twenty-one-year old motioned to push the marble with her index finger. "Without touching it." Delvaux commanded. Flustered at this asinine 'testing' she was undergoing, Prue leaned down to the table and inhaled a large gulp of air. Fine, she'd just blow on it! "Use your mind!" the witch commanded. Prue flushed a deep scarlet. She -was- using her mind! She was thinking as practically and outside of the box as she could! How ridiculous. Move a marble to prove your aptitude. The bookish, notably intelligent girl (who had accolades and scholarships in her home world!) was chagrined by the overt attacks on her practical mind. Embarrassed that she was failing so triumphantly at the minuscule test, she stood erect at one end of the table, lips pressed together as tears of frustration prickled her pale icy gaze. "I don't understand what you want from me." she admitted, fists curled into little balls at her sides. Maeve stared at the girl. "I want you to tap into your gifts and use them. It's a very simple test, just like all the rest of them." -All the rest of them!- Prue thought to herself, still unsure of whether she was passing or failing. She was, by this point, absolutely certain she was dreaming. There was no way any of this was real. Delvaux and her owl stared at Prudence with very real potency in a shaft of late-afternoon light in the dusty, eldritch flavored testing room. Prue had balanced copper scales, stuck her hand into a strange sandy substance that felt like it was made of tiny ice granules, she'd talked to a living plant that explained it had mites and how she could remove them, she read a book in latin (though had no idea what it said) and her own words had conjured a very weak, wilting mirage of a mirror before it disappeared. She thought she'd seen herself in it, but it made no sense. Prue would never have dressed so...provocatively. She had shuffled cards, rolled dice, recounted her family history back as far as she could, interacted with several 'familiars' in cages, and tried to identify different animal bones. And now she needed to move this marble. With her mind. She thought about the movie 'Matilda' and almost laughed out loud. Turning to it with skepticism, Prue stood motionless as she focused on the clear glass ball. It remained defiantly still. The Headmistress held up both hands and made a shape with her fingers so that both hands were perfectly symmetrical. "Like this, Prudence." she offered, manipulating her hands into several short tuts with the flickering of her digits in precise, articulate motions. Prudence stared. "Alright...." she replied warily, holding her own two hands up in front of herself with hesitation. She tried to mimic the motion. Her fingers and hands looked clumsy in comparison with the Headmistress', articulating the motions slowly with painful focus. "No, use your pinkies like this..." Delvaux explained, motioning in front of Prue so that she could mirror. "And then fold your middle fingers in like--ah, yes!" she exclaimed. The marble, for a split second, appeared to have rolled one lazy, tiny, modicum bit. Prue swore she could feel it, just briefly, and just that tiny movement was cumbersome and difficult. The world's smallest success felt like an epic failure. "That will be enough for today." Delvaux instructed, holding a hand out toward the door. "Collect your things, dinner will be waiting for you in the Dining Hall." she offered. The owl cawed from her shoulder and Prue jumped. "Oh...okay." she said, hands dropping to her sides as she stared longingly at the glass marble before folding her arms insecurely over her chest. "So...did I pass?" she asked hesitantly, glancing around the room at all of the strange tools and various eclectic trinkets. "We will notify you within the week." Maeve responded, and Prue felt a sinking feeling in her stomach, positive that she had failed. "Oh, okay..." she replied meekly, wondering if the notice would arrive via owl again. Delvaux disappeared to some other task, leaving Prudence alone in the unfamiliar space, wondering where the Dining Hall was. ::

Clay
"We want to get a sense of what you can do Mr Liore" Wasn't that what everyone wanted? From teachers to students. Everyone wanted a piece of Clay in some form or fashion. It was tiresome, and growing less and less entertaining as time went on. There were students who worked tirelessly to master manifestations, conflagrations, manipulations, and incantations. There were those who could summon items from thin air, while others who could make a winter wonderland in the month of May. Of course Clay had some talent in magic, or rather he had an understanding of the concept of magic. How it ebbed and flowed, and if he'd bothered to apply himself. Maybe he could leviosar a god damned book or something. But then he'd be like everyone else. Anyone who knew Clay, knew that he was the kind of person who would 'duck' if you told him to jump, and leave if you asked him to stay. Fact of the matter was this was his 'last' 'best' opportunity to make something of himself.
Flash back, to a month ago, sitting in his Father's office, surrounded by artifacts, trophies and certificates of achievement, and most imposingly of all (not really) his father tapping his ugly crooked wand on the table demanding Clay pay attention to him. " I don't know why you don't apply yourself Clayton, you're embarrassing the family legacy! Why if your poor mother was here.. " Clay cut his father off abruptly " She's not, because she wasn't 'Magical" enough for you" shavings of wood falling to the polished wooden flooring as he ran his thumb over a piece of oakwood his father had sitting upon a shelf. Prized, enchanted wood, which would never rot. " I've had enough of your mouth Clayton " A wave of the hand, and a book flew toward the young man, a book that would find its way split in two and falling to the floor. " Yeah, I've had enough of you too pops. Why don't you just fucking send me off again so you can pretend your other bastards aren't better then me "
Flashforward to the present, and Clay stood before one of the many instructors who had lead Clay through rigorous testing, designed to help designate not only the proper course, but housing of the student. It had been of course academic, and honestly Clay wasn't an idiot, he could read and write in Latin, he could mix a potent laxative out of Senna and other ingredients. Now, moving marbles? summoning fire? That was entirely impossible for him, and he failed those tests with flying colors. (And was proud of it) So now it was Physical examination time! " Oh Joy " He said in a flat voice. The instructor had been patient, and well Clay had been a dick. So there was animosity, that was finally released in the form of flying wooden balls. Harmless, but they'd hurt a hell of a lot if they hit the right spot. They flew this way and that, and reminded him of those shitty Star Wars movies his cousins Idolized growing up. However instead of lasers, they simply flew at you haphazardly until you dodged or halted them. Clay of course was not about to block some bullshit balls flying toward him. Ball number one, cut down in the prime of its life by a blade extending from his middle finger, which was directed bird style to the instructor. Ball number two and three meeting similar fates, and ball numbers four and five, skewered like kabobs on end of the same finger. " Alright Mr Liore that's enough " an exasperated instructor chimed " You can leave now, I believe their serving lunch in the dining hall " The Black coat clad Warshaper's shoulders lifted " Great... " he said sarcastically " Hope the hot dogs aren't as flavorless as the paintings. " and with that he turned, making his way out the door, leaving a trail along the wall where his middle finger dragged as it returned to a singular appendage. Now, if Clay wasn't an asshole, he might have been one of the more 'popular' kids in school, but it was obvious as he exited the testing rooms for new and transferring students that
He had a reputation. (some of that because he held to the saying. Find the biggest baddest guy, and fuck him.) Prue a late bloomer, or rather the unlucky one to come out of her testing room after everyone else had left to go to diner would find herself unfortunately left with a Black clad jackass sitting across the chamber with a copy of Pride and Prejudice (leather bound, and at least a hundred years old) Open and turned somewhere about the time Mrs. Bingly was having her fit about her daughters wholly unchased affair with the dashing Lt. Wickham. However, the sound of the door closing, and footsteps did draw his eyes up and over the book to peer at Prue. " You know the food gets worse the later its served right?"

Prue
:: The doe-eyed bookworm had taken longer than even -she- expected to find the Dining Hall in the maze of corridors and classrooms on the second (and then somehow first-- without descending a staircase or using an elevator) floor. She walked with a notable pigeon-toed gait, arms insecurely holding the strap of her satchel over her chest. Her coat was folded over her arm. Dressed in a prim floral-patterned dress, a tan buttoned wool cardigan, tights, stockings and boots-- she was a tad overdressed for the balmy temperature inside the ancient school. She tugged at her collar a bit, using the back of her hand to gauge her temperature at her forehead. She was fervid, and slightly flushed. Suddenly aware of a nagging tenderness in her lymphnodes, she swallowed to test them. Yep, a bit sore. How had she missed that? Perhaps it was just fatigue and frustration. She hoped there was some soup-- and maybe a spot of tea with honey available. Surely, something that normal would be easily sourced in a school where the arcane was king. When she -did- finally reach the Dining Hall, it was not with the step of a self-assured, well-versed student. She was twirling around as she inspected the arches overhead, the textured limestone, ancient paintings and seeking the source of distant chiming music. She nearly tripped over her own feet as she stumbled into the Hall, wide eyes surveying the rows of empty benches and family-style tables that ran the length of the hall. It was impressive, making her feel very small. Prue was stifling the hope that she'd be allowed to remain, despite consciously understanding that this was all a dream. Clay, the only other person seated in the Hall, piped up and made some comment about her less-than-prompt arrival. She blinked a couple of times before offering a half-hearted smile. "Oh, that's okay." she said with passive indifference. "I could eat anything, I'm so hungry." She was oddly chipper, almost as if she were actively concealing something. (Her wounded pride) Her hands slipped down the length of her satchel's strap and she blinked a couple of times at Clay, absorbing his offputting swagger and giving him a bit of space. He seemed like kind of a... ruffian. Did Magical Schools have ruffians? Certainly not thugs. She cleared her throat primly, though not because she was trying to assert anything-- it genuinely needed clearing! "How do I...get food?" she asked with a curious glance around the empty hall, voice echoing into the vacant air. Candles flickered at the periphery of the hall, adding illumination to the fading orange light outside. Her stomach growled and her eyes slipped back to Clay, modest grin stealing her features as she rubbed her stomach sheepishly. "I love that book." she pointed a long, thin digit with a pink manicured nail at the ancient copy of "Pride & Prejudice" that Clay held. She seemed genuinely warm, reserving in her judgement and unafraid of his outward 'stay away' vibes. She stared expectantly at him from where she stood, brimming with internal cheer and a kind spirit. She was like walking sunshine, if the sun was a bit meek and bookish...and human. With the hand that had pointed out the book, she collected a length of her hair and pulled it over her shoulder to give herself something to do in the awkward silence. ::