Pilot Candidate Festival (Open)

[Anonymous]

"Elise, Alaina. Pilot Candidate."

The doors slid smoothly open at the sound of her voice. There would be more than this, and Alaina honestly had no idea what would come next. They rotated security systems out every day. Passwords were changed, handprint databases were rebuilt, and new machines were installed on a regular basis. Apparently ATC didn't like predictability.

Not that Alaina cared or anything. Worrying about security was a surefire way to get fed to the Dragons; she'd learned that on day one when she tried to go through a metal detector with her necklace on. The officer on duty had warned her that there would be no second chances.

Alaina was a minor telepath at best, and her psychic ability was something she had very little control over. But she was a psychic nonetheless, and that meant an automatic referral to the Haviah Advanced Training Complex. No basic military prerequisites, they just handed her a uniform and ordered her to report for immediate training.

According to the records, she had actually done quite well in school. The Pilot program probably wouldn't have even bothered with a psychic ability so weak if it hadn't been for the acquired skills. Having come from a middle-caste family, education made all the difference between a bad job and a good one. It wasn't easy to work your way up, but Alaina was determined to try.

And this was it. Advanced Training. The corridor had become all white, sterile. Carefully avoiding the glances of other personnel, Alaina made her way towards Room 118. She'd been told to go there in uniform, ready for training. No additional information had been given.

Here's the room...

Slowly, she extended her fingers and placed her hand on the door, pushing slightly.

[Rhi-Rhi]

When the door opened, what greeted Alaina was not some tough, scary Pilot ready to beat the fear of the Network into her, but a rather petulent looking young man with pale skin and hair that was either white or platinum blonde; it was hard to tell in that lighting, with all the white everywhere. It fell into his gray eyes, the rest pulled back into a meticulously groomed braid; obviously he cared a lot for his appearance. He was dressed in the same gray Candidate uniform that she was, and he frowned boredly at her as the door swung open, arms crossed over his chest and his right foot tapping anxiously on the floor. He stared at her for a moment, almost to the point of being downright rude though he was really just trying to make sure she was the right person, then sighed and held a small datapad out in front of him. He tapped the touch screen a few times with the pen that was connected to it.

Wow...she was kind of old...

Maybe not really, but hey, he was seventeen, even twenty one was old.

"Right. So I guess that makes you Alaina, huh?" Val finally drawled, not looking up at her; he found the datapad more interesting. It was kind of interesting to him that he knew her name before he even read it on the screen, though, even if that happened a freakish number of times, psychic and all. Ugh. Being able to finish people's sentences for them all the time was totally not worth being stuck in this dump with all these dumpy people. You'd think they'd at least organize the Candidates a bit more instead of just toss them all together. You know, by like...age and caste, so he wouldn't have to share the same space with a bunch of old perverts or filthy toilet cleaners. God.

He'd be writing his father about that as soon as he got the chance. Which was after he was done with all these stupid mundane tasks, being people's go'fer and reporting for freakin' military training, and all on his second day here. Seriously, what the hell.

"I'm Val and...look, I'll just cut to the chase. I was just told to deliver a message to you, since I had to come here anyway. Something about you being picked up by a Pilot mentor or something, but him getting pulled away by unexpected business or whatever..."

Val finally looked up and held out the datapad out to her. Might as well just let it do the talking since he didn't really want to. "They told me to give you this. So you could talk to your Pilot guy and all. Or mentor or whatever. That's about all I know." He gave a shrug. Without anything else to say to her and nothing else to do, he was at a loss of what to say. As for what to do? He really wanted to just sneak off and get out of this stupid scratchy ugly uniform, but his better judgment told him to stay put. Bunch of freaky psychics. Wasn't like school, they'd know if he played hookey.

[Anonymous]

Alaina cocked her head to the side and swiped the datapad from his hands without a word. Great. The same archetype who'd hounded her in school was going to be her companion, at least until she could get out of the complex. He had that smirk on his face, too, as if he knew something he could hold over her. And considering he was a psychic, he probably did.

Wait...

"Older than you were expecting, no?" she asked him idly, glancing down at the datapad. Alaina was caught unawares by her own answer even as she spoke the words. Was she that ancient-looking? How did she know he was thinking that, anyway?

Alaina smiled to herself. Her own psychic side was feeding her information, and that was all she needed. Val had been ordered here only two days ago, pulled out of high school. Since then he'd been running errands for Complex officials, and he hadn't even been trained yet. He wasn't her superior. He was scared, lost, and alone.

"Well don't just stare. Get me some coffee; I haven't woken up yet."

[Rhi-Rhi]

Val's eyes widened and his lips parted in surprise as Alaina gave voice to what he'd been thinking, and for a second he thought he might have actually said that out loud. Wait, had he? He was usually pretty good at keeping comments to himself unless they were meant to be heard (strategically so it seemed like an accident, of course), but it had been a long and confusing two days so maybe he'd slipped. He actually had to think about that for a couple seconds, feeling a little stupid, before he realized she'd probably read his mind.

Riiight...psychics. Eugh.

He quickly pulled himself back together and relaxed tense muscles. It helped that no sooner had she said that, she was ordering him to fetch her coffee—though he'd never admit that for a split second he'd felt the impulse to go fetch her the damned coffee, since he'd come to associate personnel older than their teens as Pilots and soldiers. But she wasn't. She was just another Candidate and she didn't look like anyone important. Jeez, what planet was this lady from? He rolled his eyes and scoffed, shifting his weight from one leg to the next.

"Tchyeah, whatever, lady. You're just another Candidate," Val said, pouring as much disdain as he could into the word "Candidate". He was not happy to be one, he didn't want to be here, and like hell was he going to play nice with another one thinking she could boss him around. Bad enough there were all these asshole Pilots around treating him like dirt, and it was probably a combination of all those factors that fueled his almost instant loathing of the woman. "You should probably be fetching me coffee. What caste are you from, anyway? Were you a janitor? Sewage worker? Maybe a whore?"

[Anonymous]

"...sewage worker? Maybe a whore?"

The words echoed in her head. Alaina could hear the the sound of blood pounding in her ears, and for a moment she was incredibly tempted just to let go, to rail on the kid until he shut up. But it wouldn't help to antagonize him any more than she already had, so she bit her tongue. Mostly.

"You really don't think much of seniority, do you?"

Alaina was willing to be civil with most people, but Val was beginning to bother her on a very fundamental level. What a horrible example of the upper caste. Alaina took immediate comfort in the fact that in the Aedolis military, there were no castes, no separations within the ranks.

I suppose, she mused, that means no seniority either.

The military was a completely new concept for both of them. Val was in as unfamiliar a setting as she was. Let him adjust, and if he's still an inconsiderate prick in two weeks... well... she was too tired to contemplate the possibility.

"Now where do I get myself a coffee?"

[Anonymous]

Taking a deep breath, Phenyo pushed on a door. Keeping her eyes closed tight, just in case her worst fear was behind two number three.

Of course she poked her head through first, the purple pony tails behind her ears gave a clear view to the back of her neck. Mismatched green eyes flicked between the two other -- Phenyo felt her heart squish -- Candidates. That ugly gray uniform, Phenyo leaned back out of the door and looked down at her own uniform, the blood stains from the other day still on the collar, a dark brown colour by now. Blood stains didn't leave, and Dyerlich probably thought it was a good lesson on why not to say he looked like goopey food.

Pushing the door open, Phenyo heard something about seniority. Smirking slightly she figured this was a new person. In her few hours time to herself, which she loved because it meant she could talk like herself without fear of broken ribs or getting stabbed in the chest by claws, Phenyo had met maybe another candidate. So far she felt she had it off the worst, she asked elusive questions and made sure not to turn around.

Standing in the door way she blinked at the two and pursed her lips and reached back to rub at the tender scars at the back of her neck. "You get coffee in the cafeteria. I've only been here a few days though, so I'm not really sure which way it actually is." Tapping her booted foot on the ground, she looked down and rubbed at her long pointed ear. Needless to say, Phenyo was probably the one who stood out the most, dark tanned skin, bright purple hair and pointed ears.

She smiled towards the two and then squinted at them. " You two haven't met your pilots yet, have you...?" They seemed far too happy, and carefree, then away, they were alone. If the dark spots on her uniform didn't give away that she'd been here for at least a few days, the way she kept her torso very straight would help, it still ached like no tomorrow after getting her ribs cracked.

"I'm Phenyo." She lifted her fingers and gave them a wiggle in a form of greeting. Nodding a few times, Phenyo stuffed her hands into her pants pockets and wandered around the room, looking up at corners and down at things, turned away from them. Leaving the back of her neck and the freshly carved name in it, Dyerlich, in perfect view of the two others in the room. It wasn't bleeding, but it was clearly only a few days old

All Phenyo was thinking of was about how weird it was that all the rooms in this placed looked so alike.

[Tally]

(OOC: For my sanity, please let's go in order. ^^;;  Me, Shizzy, Rhi, Choco, Alaina, Draco. Don't post 'til it's your turn.)

The door opened once more and two people strode in.  The first was a man in his mid thirties, tall and muscular, and he went straight to the desk at the front of the room.  The second was another Pilot candidate, his uniform wrinkled and his dark brown hair unkempt.  He was Col Savage, and he shuffled in silently and slipped into one of the desks without looking at anyone else in the room.  His thoughts were quiet but scattered, projecting at random in every direction.  Mostly they were vague worries and wishes to be elsewhere.

The older man, on the other hand, projected nothing.  His mind was contained and closed, which didn't help to identify him.  No uniform, no name tag, nothing.  His jeans had a worn-in look, but the white t-shirt he wore was immaculately clean.  Over that, a white collared shirt fluttered open and unbuttoned around his hips.  The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows.

It was his usual attire.  Rarely could Roman Rosales be caught in the Pilot's uniform.  Sometimes he got really crazy and wore a red shirt.

The only thing he carried with him was a small styrofoam cup with steaming coffee in it and a little red plastic stirrer.  It made a soft scratching sound against the cup as he stirred, and he took a sip before setting it down and hopping up to sit on the edge of the desk.

At last he looked up, intense blue eyes flashing from behind black bangs.  "Sit down, everyone," he said, waving them all to find a desk.  The room was set up as a small classroom for military regiments and candidates.  "Let's get this over with."  He looked at Alaina.  "So.  An empty-headed, uppity little bitch who doesn't seem to appreciate the situation for what it is..."

At Val.  "An upper caste brat with an entitlement jive he'll probably have to get beaten out of him..."

At Phenyo.  "A candidate who I think will require saintly patience from Dyerlich, whom I see you have already met..."

At Col.  "And you."  He sneered with the last word and Col unconsciously tried to look very small, hunching his shoulders and slouching in the chair.  Thus far, he hadn't so much as glanced at the other candidates, intent on not attracting attention to himself.

They were quick appraisals, those summaries.  Little different than the first immediate impression one got from a stranger's appearance and outward demeanor.  Roman would know most of them intimately by the time their six-month grace period was over.  Until then, they might or might not come to learn that what he said about them to their faces was less about communication and more about achieving a specific result.

He sighed and took his coffee cup in hand again for another sip.  He didn't set it down this time, but held onto it and let the heat spread through his hands.  One leg swung casually, the heel of his sneaker knocking against the front of the desk.  "All right," he said.  "Someone besides Savage tell me who I am."  And with that he unlocked his thoughts, not projecting but not shielding either.  The psychic gifts represented in the Pilot ranks were as diverse as the Pilots themselves.  Roman's gift was an uncanny control.  His thoughts were read when he allowed them to be read, his telepathy heard only by those he allowed to hear it.  Now, he permitted reading by any of these candidates capable of the feat.  At the front of his mind he held one thought steady:

Roman Rosales, Pilot Royal.

No one there besides Savage had met him, but some may have heard of him.  Let's see if any of them could pluck his name and rank from his thoughts.

[Anonymous]

((Don't forget Shizzy!))

There was nothing that alluded to the fact that there was anyone coming. Only a select few, well...the few who could, weren't here, save for one man. The rather hard man would feel it, just a subtle shield that was more of a streamline thing. Probes would run over it but not think anything of it. It was a little trick that only his apprentices knew actually, how to look for him if they needed. Advanced warning even.

He had been unnoticed for the most part, not even Phenyo knew he was there, watching the new recruits, well...not watching. Listening. Their minds were so feeble, so fresh, but so full of potential. Their minds chattered and nattered, filled with such useless, and even useful information, and he could understand it all quite nicely. He could sort the junk from the stuff that he enjoyed.

Though, he was not too sure he liked the idea of Roman giving his name out so freely. Thankfully Phenyo had said nothing, she was a good girl, a little slow at learning of course, but she learned in the end. The hardest way though, and that was with tough love actually. She wasn't going to get any less, but he was going to be rather impressed by that. Though, it was no doubt out of fear really.

However, Roman was trying to weed out who had honed senses already, and who was not. He already knew that Phenyo had powers but nothing too significant yet.

"Put your mind away child, test them later." The voice, though soft, was by no means was it nice sounding. It was almost like a cruel quiet hiss. Behind all of the candidates he had almost appeared in a way. The slender tall man, towering over people at just over seven feet tall, strode proudly past each candidate. He was a man you could not miss, with snowy white skin that seemed to have a shine, silver hair, speckled with gold, and yellow eyes filled with electric blue irises. For Phenyo, it would be a surprise, he lacked his hood, but still wore the cowl that covered from the nose down. His simple outfit, a tight fitting dark blue shirt, to match the same coloured loose pants that he wore. He wore almost slippers, soft looking shoes that one could easily get on in a hurry.

He was something that didn't seem to fit too well with human society, so otherworldly.

The man stopped for just a moment near Phenyo, placing a hand on her shoulder, no...one could see him brushing along the back of her neck fondly. Scars that would last for years, scars she could never rid herself of until she passed the pilot program, just as it had been for all his candidates. If one looked...they would see a word. Dyerlich. No. Not a word...a name.

Even to Roman, his mind was closed, hard to find, hard to sense, and he liked it that way. It was a cesspool of negative emotions, not his own, collected ones of course. He didn't suffer...others suffered around him, and he flourished.

"This is my former Candidate. My people are not one for nostalgia, but this man here has been a shining example of what can be accomplished. This program was not difficult for him, he was able to simply walk through it almost. He sadly required a certain age, and not even I could bend the rules for him. Drafted at thirteen and kept here till he was eighteen, till he could finally be given the rank of Pilot. Not all of you will be like him...no...some of you will fail...some of you will pass...but you will not rise like he has, at least, not as quickly." One could note the pride in Dyerlich's voice. It had not really been him who had made his star pupil like this. Oh no. Dyerlich had been there to help the boy along and remove what weakness there might be, if any. Dyerlich's eyes would scan the room, looking upon each new face he had not seen, and the two he had. His new candidate...and his old. Then again, a lot of pilots had trained under him, buy they were off for the time being.

"You. Yes...Little Val. So young...so fresh..." Dyerlich was on the move, he suddenly vaulted over the table to approach Val, watching the young man with malice in his eyes. "Oh yes...You have some preconceived notions about you still. Let me...educate you, and all of you. Out there in that world...you run your fancy little games, loving your caste system, who is on top, who is on the lowest rung, that sort of thing. Now however...you've rose above the caste system. All your family, your friends, you're quite above them now." Dyerlich hoped that made the young man feel a little more confident, because only Roman could really see where this might be headed.

"But now little boy...you learn something very foreign. You're on the lowest rung of the ladder. That girl over there," He pointed to Alaina, smiling a little. "Yes, could have been a whore, could have walked the streets, could have cleaned places, could have drove people around for all you know. Now Val, you're on that caste with her. You're the lowest of the low here...you're the whore Val. You're a streetwalker in my eyes, nothing really, a few bucks here, a moment of pleasure, and discarding you like trash. Daddy can't save you, Daddy can't bribe people for you anymore." Dyerlich explained to him, putting emphasis on the right words, trying to send a chilling fear down the man's spine. He didn't care for some of the Upper Caste. They thought too good of themselves really.

"You will learn of bonds you could not even imagine here, of tactics, techniques, and how to serve this country. And you...will learn your place." There was a resounding sound of flesh against flesh as Dyerlich brought his hand across the boys face. "When I am present, you will sit upon the floor from now on Val. You will earn the right to sit upon a chair. And if you think I'm joking, and I seriously hope you don't for your sake...ask Phenyo what I did to her for saying I resembled the slop from the Mess Hall. I cracked three of her ribs with a pneumatic gun." With his fun little speech out of the way, he headed back to stand beside Roman, looking down at the man. His features had softened just a little bit when looking at the man, though, it would be hard to see with his face mostly hidden behind the cowl. "Apologies for stealing your thunder Roman, but I just had to put some fear into these new recruits. Though...you seem to have one who already is filled with it."

Roman would cure him of that. Dyerlich had taught him very well over the years, and he never let his pupil forget. "If you would, open your mind a bit for them so they may know my name and rank. I do not believe it would be wise to let them start feeling around blindly in my own."

[Rhi-Rhi]

Val had been about to say that no, he hadn't met his Pilot yet (whatever the hell that meant), but that was when Phenyo turned around and he saw the scars on the back of her neck, all too fresh and forming some sort of word. That was also when it registered just how stiffly she was moving and what the dark spots on her uniform might be, and a chill ran up his spine and made him momentarily forget what he'd been about to say. Every entertaining thought that had initially popped into his mind when first seeing her--thoughts that judging by her looks she must have come from a circus--was suspended. How had she gotten that?

That was when the door opened yet again and two people strode in. The kid in the gray uniform he ignored; just another candidate. It was the older man he focused on, an eyebrow arching as he took in his casual attire, and he chuckled to himself and shook his head. Another older candidate? God, what a doofus, coming in here without a uniform. He was so gonna get busted, and Val wouldn't really mind seeing that, actually. He smirked and rolled his eyes. Even he knew a thing or two about proper military--

The man hopped onto the desk and told them all to take a seat, and Val made a soft choking sound and quickly looked back over at him, back stiff as he watched his face for any sign that he had heard his thoughts. Their instructor. Crap. On the bright side, though, it didn't seem like he was one of those Pilot assholes because if he'd picked up any of his thoughts, he didn't show it. Val relaxed again, cleared his throat, and headed for a desk at the far side of the room near the middle. Not too far away so as to miss anything, but not too close for comfort. He slid into it and leaned back with his arms folded over his chest as their instructor continued on.

And then he had to bite his lip so as not to laugh out loud, grinning over in Alaina's direction. Hah, he kind of liked this guy, he was so dead on it was funny--

Wait, brat? Entitlement jive? His head snapped back to the front so quickly he might as well have been smacked, and his lips twisted from a grin into a scowl, red flushing his cheeks. Somehow, that made the man's other appraisals lose their humor and he spent the remainder of it glaring openly at him and wishing he was telekenetic so he could knock that coffee right into his crotch. He humphed quietly when their instructor told them to tell him who he was. Another time, and he might have been able to pick up his name or other random stuff like he had with Alaina, but he could feel his mind recede as he chose to brood instead.

You're our instructor, you have no dress sense, and you're--surprise!--just another asshole here. That's who you are, he thought sourly, crossing one leg over the other. Let the others play the guessing game. He'd just be busy planning out that letter to his father so--gah!

A disembodied voice spoke and he twisted in his seat in time to see a giant of a man appear, who strode up to the front of the room. That was a Pilot. And...so was the other guy? Val slipped down in his seat a bit, the realization making him feel suddenly uncomfortable as he remembered all the stuff he'd been thinking. Of course, thinking about what he'd been thinking wasn't much better than just thinking the thoughts, and he missed most of the new guy's speech as a result until he heard his name.

His face went red as the man belittled him, but he stared levelly back at him, lips set into a thin line. He wouldn't let him get to him. Wasn't worth it. That's what he told himself, but he could feel his foot tapping and his fingers digging into his arms as the man prattled on, and a muscle in his jaw twitched. It took every effort not to talk back, but he focused hard on his breathing and it kind of helped. Until the guy called him a whore. Fuck him. He wasn't even original. That was his insult to hurl.

That was his last thought before pain exploded in his face. For a few moments that was all he felt, but then he was able to register the feeling of tile beneath his hands. He opened his eyes and pressed his hand to his cheek, which felt hot and sore. He slapped him. The bastard had actually slapped him. That shocked the anger right out of him, that someone would actually do that. Well...someone that wasn't his old girlfriend when he broke up with her.

Still stunned, he started to get up, but what Dyerlich said about that made him pause. Broken ribs? He looked up and glanced from one Pilot to the other before finally settling on Dyerlich. That comment wore the shock off, and he smiled humorlessly, eyes narrowed. "Fuck you. You can't do that," he said, frozen in a crouch. "Do you even know who I am?"

The door opened again and a wirey girl with messy black hair stumbled in, also dressed in candidate gray. She was panting like she'd run a marathon, and she made a face when she saw everyone else already seated. Oh great!

"Ah! We haven't started yet have--oh." Arrow saw Roman first, seated on the desk at the front of the room and she went about two shades paler, eyes going wide and body going stock still. She didn't know who he was, but by his placement in the room she could only assume he was a teacher. Then she saw Dyerlich and another candidate crouched on the floor with a red spot blossoming on one cheek. She always picked the best times to walk into a room...

Arrow stood fixed to the spot for a moment, mind flip-flopping between the impulse to turn and run or to quickly find a seat and hope to high hope that she hadn't missed too much--and that these people were lenient. Even she knew the first option wasn't an option, though, much as she wished it was.

"Oh...sorry," she whispered, barely audible, and finally closed the door behind her. She ducked her head and scurried to the closest desk she could find, dropping into it and staring down at her hands.

[Anonymous]

((Don't forget Choco either!))

This was stupid. Who the fuck expected her to become a pilot anyway? This was dumber than that time her school coach wanted her to jump. It simply wasn’t going to happen. No legs equals no jumpy.

Gorgon equals no piloty. Chica didn’t hate what she was, she loved it. She loved her strong tail, so useful for crushing. She loved her hair, which was so full of….personality. She even loved her eyes, despite having to wear goggles constantly to stop herself petrifying everyone. She didn’t even exactly hate everyone else; she just hated being forced to live with them.

Yes indeed, the world was tough when you had no legs and your hair was made of snakes. Snakes which, at the moment, were wriggling in distress. They did that, mimicked her emotions. It made her pretty damned easy to read. Right now they were informing anyone who knew what to look for that she was shitting herself because she was late.

Her pilot mentor was off in the war, along with a bunch of others candidates’ pilots it seemed, so she had been told to go to these classes. Room 118 however was easily confused with room 18. Unfortunately they were quite a distance apart, so what had been her getting there early had now become her being desperately late.

She adjusted her goggles as she ran…er….slithered. It didn’t really count as running. The orange lenses stopped her from killing people, which was good, though if she was able to right now she’d turn them on herself. People were staring. People always stared.

She kept her head low and fidgeted with her skirt, which was as grey as the rest of her uniform. It was meant to be pants, but she couldn’t really do pants, so she’s been forced to make them into a mid length skirt with poor stitching up the front and back.

She was actually moving pretty fast, faster than most people could run anyway. She weaved as she moved, rippling the muscles in her tail for motion while keeping her head relatively fixed.

116, 117, ah! 118, finally. She ducked in, right on the heels of another candidate, some little girl. Chica slithered to a desk on the far side of the girl, a little pissed that she herself hadn’t gotten the closest spot to the door, in case escape was needed.

She pushed the chair out of the way, flinching when it screeched across the floor. Her hair hung limp as she lowered herself behind the desk. She didn’t sit, just lowered herself to a sitting level. She fought a rising blush, which spread through her cheeks and into the cheeks of her hair. Well, this was going bloody well wasn’t it.

[Anonymous]

"Fuck you. You can't do that," Val said, crouching. "Do you even know who I am?"

Alaina buried her face in her palm. At this point, it didn't matter who he was. They were all Candidates; she had figured it out and Val hadn't. As a result, he was going to be humiliated again, or worse.

Only a few minutes ago, it would have been a much-appreciated gesture, even an amusing one. But Alaina found no solace in the fact that Val was being taught his place. Other Pilot Candidates were filing into the room now, and while it was good to know Val wasn't the only other one in her situation, she noticed several disturbing details. The one introduced as Phenyo had been broken, branded on the back of her neck. She was bruised visibly across her face.

Alaina felt sick. She had signed up to serve Aedolis, to develop her abilities, and to move up in the world. To be struck over and over again, to have names burned into her skin, that was a different story. She glanced over at the military instructor.

His name was Roman Rosales. His rank was Pilot Royal.

Interesting. She had probably heard of him before. It seemed likely that he was a high-ranking officer, in which case it might have simply been an article on some Haviah newsnet. But how did she recognize him, then? In any case, he'd probably be reading her mind right now, so there wasn't much point in saying it out loud. Unless...

Slowly, Alaina raised her hand and allowed herself the hint of a smile. She was in school again. Scary, twisted, abusive school.

[Anonymous]

Mismatched green eyes could only blink and stare at the randomness that occured within the past few minutes. Two people came in, a poor depressed looking boy, and a scruffy adult-creature. He just radiated 'I'm powerful,' vibes so Phenyo kept her mouth shut and her eyes averted. The last thing she wanted to do was draw too much attention herself, which was entertaining because of her bright purple hair. She watched him, standing where she was, her green eyes going from each of the candidates before resting on this fellow.

Phenyo was unsure if his comment about her was an insult or just something he noticed.

Shrugging it off she froze and straightened slightly when she heard a familiar voice.  Goddammit! What the hell was he doing here? A hand went to rub at the back of her neck and itch the healing wound, looking again between the candidates.

Watching silently when Dyerlich went between the candidates, ignoring the brush of his fingers against her neck. Phenyo frowned and reached out slightly as if to stop her mentor from smacking the mouthy boy, then put her hand to her side. A simple smack would be nothing, recalling what happened to her after presenting Dyerlich with the sharp side of her tongue. He ruined her shoulder, gave her a name at the back of her neck and some cracked ribs which still ached.

Feeling vaguely self conscience about the scars on her neck she pressed her hand to it and looked around, doing a bad job of hiding it. Then looked around and blinked a few times when two more students entered the room. A cute worried little girl that Phenyo watched sit down, and a scary ass snake lady.

....A what?

Phenyo blinked at her and rose her eyebrows. Well... Of all the things to be unexpected about being here, it was a snake girl. Phenyo moved and sat down in front of the girl with black hair, popping the collar of her uniform to hide the scars from the poor girl. Wouldn't want to scare the crap out of her, she seemed scared enough already.

Arrow.

Blinking for a moment and frowning, she looked around, was there a bow in here? Is that why she thought of arrows?  Phenyo shrugged, looked over her shoulder and smiled at the girl, ignoring the drama that was slowly unfolding around the room. Casting glances around, she leaned forward, her head planted on her hand.

Thrilling. This scruffy fellow was trained by Dyerlich. Phenyo bet he was as psychotic as the Ghoul, maybe more so, the candidate that followed him in looked like he felt like falling over and dying just to get away from him.

But then the Seniority Girl... Woman? Rose her hand.

Cracking a smirk Phenyo got back up and leaned back in her seat, being a distracting shield for the girl behind her. "Seems like being in Hell brings out the best in people." Phenyo said with a hint of a sarcastic smile.  

Phenyo? Mentally broken from a few cracked ribs and having a name cut into the back of her neck? Yeah right.

[Tally]

Roman's reaction to the appearance of the other Pilot was, at first, nonexistent.  He only watched, his expression unreadable, steam rising from the coffee cup in his hands.  Then, as Dyerlich continued his monologues, Roman's mouth quirked into a smile and he rolled his eyes in the manner of one who has heard a joke a hundred times before and is resigned to hearing it a hundred times more.

He shook his head and returned the coffee cup to the desk top.  From his back pocket he produced a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, and he spent the rest of Dyerlich's speech leaning back on one hand and blowing lazy smoke rings at the ceiling.  Pilots were by and large a quirky bunch, and a significant part of living in harmony with them was being willing to indulge their eccentricities.  Roman liked to think he was pretty good at that part.

The only time he took interest during the whole spiel was when Val's obscenity cracked the air.  In a seat on the same row, Col Savage whipped his head around to stare wide-eyed at the other candidate.  Roman just looked at him levelly.

And here he'd thought this would be a boring class.

The psychic energy in the room was crowded and buzzing, and that was fine.  It was to be expected.  Roman sampled it here and there, acquainting himself with the taste of them all, the particular vibrations of their thoughtwaves.  Most of it was the usual mixture of apprehension and excitement—emotions and wordless concepts.  Some of it was more direct, like the insult Val aimed at him.  And that one was fine, too.  One thing they never did with these new recruits, or anyone else for that matter: they didn't punish them for their thoughts.  The plain fact was that most people, candidates included, had no real control over their thoughts in the first place.  It took years to attain the mastery of mind a Pilot had, and there was just no rushing it.  If the Pilots punished people for their thoughts, they'd be doing nothing but culling insurrectionists every waking hour.

When Dyerlich stopped beside him, Roman glanced up grinning.  "Mate," he said, ashing on the floor, "you're like a little kid with new toys.  You just can't resist."  There was a measure of affection in the words.  He'd known Dyerlich longer than any other Pilot and the two of them had developed a rapport over the years.  But for his part, Roman had a lot of information to cover and instructions to give and would just as soon get it over with and get the candidates settled into their routines.

So.  First thing's first.  "Archer, Chica.  You're late."  He fixed each of them in turn with a stern look, and paused for a measured time just to make them worry a little.  "Don't make a habit of it."

That's when a movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he glanced over to see Alaina...raising her hand.  For a moment he just stared at her, then he burst out laughing.  It was just so, well, cute.  It endeared her to him immediately.  He caught up the thread of her thoughts and saw that she had gleaned his name and rank both, and she had done so in the midst of distractions.  Not bad.

There was a more pressing issue, however.  He held up a finger at her.  "Hold that thought."

And he turned to Val.

He didn't say anything for long moments, blue eyes resting easily on Val's own.  He still sat on the desk, legs crossed at the ankles, smoke curling up from the cigarette in his fingers.  "I understand," he said at last.  "You don't belong here, you don't need to be here.  You have a good life.  Your family's given you the best education, and you have a brilliant future waiting for you.  And you deserve more respect than this.  I understand."  He smiled.  It was a different kind of smile than the one he'd had before.  Roman hopped down off the desk and motioned to Val.  "Why don't you come up here?  Come, stand right here between us.  You can stand up, it's okay."

Col, watching this all unfold, felt a dread rise up in him.  He'd kept his eyes on Roman the whole time, even while listening to Dyerlich.  He desperately wished he could switch Pilots.  He would much rather face Dyerlich's straightforward hostility and violence than Roman's treacherous subtleties.  Just look at him up there, thumbs hooked in the pockets of his jeans as he waited for Val to come up.  He looked so innocuous, like any vanilla, middle-caste office worker on his day off.  Like he didn't have it in him to hurt anyone.

Col scowled openly at him.  He knew better.  He'd seen it that day, when Roman found him on the streets.  The incident had marked him as surely as Dyerlich had marked Phenyo.  It had been worse, way worse, than just violence.  Worse than just physical pain.  He would never forget it, and he would never ever let his guard down around that man.

[Anonymous]

Dyerlich did something odd. Well. Perhaps not odd really. He ignored Val and his sudden...outburst at him. The boy was young, rash, not used to this sort of thing. He would grow...in time of course, and he would learn what was expected of him, and how to talk to people. People that were his betters perhaps. Heh. Val was really going to enjoy all of this was he?

He couldn't wait to see what Roman did. It was all in his hands. Whether there would be discipline, a stern talking to, or nothing at all...it was all in the hands of Romans. At least the boy had been surprised when he had slapped him. Heh heh. It kinda felt like he had slapped the expression right off of his face.

Dyerlich watched as two new people stride into the room with some interest. Well. The snake woman was...a little unexpected actually but....who was he to talk? Seven feet tall with strange skin, spikes, and hands that could form to claws. Yeah. He wouldn't judge. She must have been psychic then, though Gorgons were known to use magic. Hm...names...names. ..ah. Arrow Archer...Seriously/ Really? That was just...wrong. The other was...ahhh...Chica. Ah Gorgon.

Fascinating.

A monster all on her own, a force to be reckoned with.

For a moment, Dyerlich let his eyes wander to Phenyo as she moved. She popped her collar. Ah hah hah. Roman hadn't been allowed to hide the name on his lower back for one year. shirts with little cuts on the back just for the name to show. Well. He would talk to her about that later. He had yet to tell her the name should not be hidden. It wasn't her fault. He could not blame her for something she didn't know.

Dyerlich actually gave a slight bow to the man. "I really do apologize...they're so fresh and young." They scare easy. Well. Maybe not scare, but at the same time...they were so head strong. He loved it. Dyerlich slowly lowered himself down onto the floor beside Roman, smiling a little bit at the man. He hadn't sat in on a class done by Roman in quite some time actually. This might be interesting.

He was rather impressed by Alaina, her talent was promising. For only the briefest of moments would she feel a presence in her mind, his presence, but it was all but gone, leaving barely a trace of him being there. If she was smart, she would be able to identify which person in the room. He left nothing but a trace, no names, nothing. Just a feeling.

Heh.

Dyerlich looked to Val carefully now, his eyes flickering to look between him and the candidate. Dyerlich liked lessons to be quick, his pupils learned right away, or at least, they were punished almost right away. Roman had a whole different approach. Dyerlich waited, he knew there would be something coming. Something good.

You plan on treating me to a nice meal do you? The voice was projected, while Dyerlich respected the shields of the pilots, he could still use telepathy, allowing the words to float around the shield for the Pilots to hear. He did ensure the conversation would be private, he wasn't sure he'd like any of the candidates picking up on this. Though...most of the regular pilots knew of his odd eating habits...ones that were quite a lot different than most.

[Rhi-Rhi]

It was a bit dizzying to go from being told you were the lowest of the low by one man to being told you deserved respect by another. For a moment Val just scowled at Roman, face still stinging. Jeez, you'd think the people here would be more organized but whatever. The Pilot had said exactly what Val had wanted to hear, his words perfectly in line with Val's thoughts, and he heard in those words a way out. After a moment of meeting Roman's eyes warily as though searching for a catch, his expression softened. Maybe he'd made a premature judgment and this one wasn't so bad.

He did seem pretty laid back, and after Dyerlich's rampage Val had completely forgotten the man's assessment of him. Right now he just looked like the cool, popular teacher that every student wished they could get.

Val looked over at Dyerlich, but after being prompted by the other Pilot to stand, that it was okay, he slowly rose to his feet. Something about the request struck him as odd, though, and he hesitated, one eyebrow arching. Stand between them? Between the psycho and the other guy? What was he going to do, make the tall dude apologize or something? Made sense because they couldn't just go around smacking their students, could they? That didn't seem legal. So what about the chick with the mark on her neck? Bah, maybe she was just a cutter. Still. Yeah. He was gonna stand by the tall freak. Uh...how about no? Besides, that one guy had basically told him he didn't belong here. He'd said he didn't need to be here. That, to him, implied that he didn't need to be here and, in other words, he could leave.

He had it made back home. It was the lower caste brats that needed this, so let them take it and someone else could take his spot.

With a little smirk over at Alaina, who was proving to be such a typical know-it-all and who would probably have such a blast getting these people coffee while he was so out of here, he dusted himself off and marched his way up to the front of the class. If he had kept his mind open and not shut himself up stubbornly as he had, he might have felt Col projecting all over the place and may have taken that rising dread as a warning. But he didn't go to stand between the Pilots as he'd been told.

Instead, he just headed straight for the automatic door. "So you're saying I can leave, right?"

Arrow was perfectly quiet, sitting cross-legged in her seat all folded up and chewing on her thumb nail out of habit as she watched everything with wide eyes. Somewhere among all the dread she felt--was that hers or someone else's?--she caught a few snippets of thought that definitely weren't her own. Roman? Who was Roman?

Waaait!

Roman was the person her mentor had mentioned in his e-mail! The one that was gonna take her while he was out at war. And from the random thoughts that were bouncing all over the place...he wasn't very nice. Arrow's eyes moved between the two Pilots, wondering who was who or if any of the Pilots here even were him, and she swallowed hard and focused her attention on the purple hair of the girl in front of her. It was a good thing to focus on, pretty distracting, and that way she wouldn't have to watch Val's inevitable smackdown or look at the scary lady that had chosen to sit right next to her, which really wasn't doing anything for her nerves. Oh man...

She probably did that on purpose. She probably just knew she was afraid of snakes.

[Anonymous]

Wow. Two idiots walk in late and there’s barely even a fuss. School teachers yelled at her more than this for being late, but somehow the lack of reaction wasn’t comforting, just unnerving.

It didn’t fit with all the horrible stories about the pilot program. You weren’t supposed to get away with shit like that. Thrown to the dragons at your first mistake, that was how it was meant to be.

She silently glared at the little chit that raised her hand, making her hair involuntarily rise up a little and let out a few soft hisses. She really hated people like that. Her snakes were constantly flicking their tongues in and out, tasting the air for her. It…told her things. Things like the mix of emotions coming form the room. Fear, dread, even cockiness hung in the air. Without moving about it was impossible to tell who each smell belonged to of course, except for the two nearest her. Archer, the other latecomer, was afraid. Big whoop there. And as for little miss purple…well she was emitting a mildly irritated scent.

She sighed. This was so damn boring. She slumped, sinking towards the desk, watching the drama unfold. That guy was getting screwed over, and he was an idiot if he couldn’t see that.

Chica had never been very sensitive when it came to mind reading and that sort of thing, she was more of a telekinesis kinda girl, but now and then things would pop into her head that she’d gleamed subconsciously from the other candidates. One such thought came very suddenly, making her flinch.

Waaait!

Guh, that came from the girly next to her. She was thinking way too loud. The girls thoughts drifted across the little channel that had formed between them, letting words like ‘scary lady’ dribble into Chica’s mind. Who was she calling lady? She frowned indignantly. The bitch was calling her old. She suddenly picked up the word ‘lady’ being directed at her from several other people in the room. Damn people. Calling her names, even if it was in their heads. She tried to pick up more, straining to reach out, or whatever it was you were supposed to do, but it was silent again. Mind reading was stupid anyway.

She scratched at her head for a moment, then grinned. If she, with her very pathetic abilities, could hear some thoughts directed at her…then maybe…

Hey, girlie! Archer! I’m gunna eat you! I’m gunna bite you and crush you and eat you up for dinner!

Hehe, that’d teach her. Not like she actually could eat her…well…not all at once anyway, but it’s the thought that counts.

[Anonymous]

"...brings out the best in people."

The girl in front of Alaina had noticed her mind-probing. Ah well. She had no right to be looking there anyway, and though she empathized with the girl, it was clear she wasn't as "mentally broken" as she looked. The one with the word "Dyerlich" carved into the back of her neck was perfectly fine, if a little sarcastic.

She'd been holding her hand in the air, waiting to be called on. After about a minute, the man known as Roman Rosales began to chuckle at her. He made motions with his cigarette in the air, leaving a faint trail of smoke. His laugh wasn't particularly demeaning, just the mild amusement of someone who's seen something he wasn't expecting. He seemed like a perfectly amiable man.

"Hold that thought," Roman said, raising a finger. Obligingly, the young woman lowered her hand and began to repeat the words in her mind.

You are Roman Rosales, Pilot Royal.

There was another feeling invading her surface thoughts, though, something she couldn't quite place. Val grinned at her, but she paid him no mind. There was a distraction in her head, a soft, foreign buzzing. Someone was ransacking her mind for information. Maybe more than one student; she suspected the instructors would not be so obvious about it. Alaina had very little knowledge of psychic manipulation, but she knew that reading surface thoughts was simple. The instructor had asked a question, and now someone was trying to cheat off Alaina. The thought amused her.

Alaina slipped her hands into her pockets, straightened herself in the chair, and glanced towards the other instructor. The cowled man who had crouched on the floor beside Roman was a blank slate. Alaina knew nothing about him. She hadn't seen his picture on the news, and he certainly hadn't introduced himself to the class. Somehow, though, he evoked a visceral uneasiness in Alaina. The interactions between him and Val were fresh in her mind, and it worried her. She stared at him for a moment before realizing that it might not be such a smart idea.

Some of the students, like the cross-legged late arrival next to her, were being careful. Alaina turned her eyes towards the girl, watched her nibble on one thumbnail. Roman... Visibly nervous, she swallowed a lump in her throat and stared directly forward. Scary lady... Didn't seem pretentious like Val or defiant like the "Dyerlich" girl. She was nervous, so nervous.

Alaina turned away, her face burning. She felt uncomfortable, like she'd just walked in on something private, and immediately began watching the instructors again. The styrofoam cup of institutional coffee on Roman's desk probably tasted like dirt, but at the moment it tempted her far more than accidentally reading other people's minds.

[Anonymous]

As much as Phenyo was throughly enjoying someone else being in trouble instead of her. The very loud whispering from beside her, a quick glance over her shoulder showed her to not be speaking. The whispering didn't stop though, what the hell was that? Maybe she really did crack and this was her brain whispering her to run away. Then again, there was no way in any layer of hell she'd label herself as "Dyerlich" girl. That bit made her eyebrow twitch and she sat up just a little bit higher in her chair. Who the hell was whispering that? Well, she wasn't hearing anything, just that scruffy fellow trick Val into going up there.

Good job kid. You fail at being smart.

Rolling her mismatched eyes towards the ceiling, she figured they had something nasty up their sleeve. The few days she'd spent with Dyerlich taught her not to trust any of the bastards. Sure they could act nice, but they were more than willing to make you ache if you did something silly.

That damn whispering was still going on. Another glance was thrown over her shoulder towards the elder female, really wishing she'd stop whispering about a Roman something or other. Then she heard the "Dyerlich" Girl thing float past and she stood up and glared over at Alaina, her hands on her hips and her eyes squinted and glaring.

"Look, I have a name. I am not "Dyerlich" girl. My name is Phenyo, and we get it." Phenyo lifted an arm to point a Roman. "His name is Roman Roses, or something like that, and he's Pilot Royal. Stop repeating it, it's really annoying." Then she cast her green eyes on Chica, or she could only assume was Chica, the scruffy guy, whom she could now assume to be Roman, had called them out for being late. "And you. Shut your damn hair up or I'll cut it off."

Smacking her hand down on the desk and glared after Val. "And you, you little brat. They're going to rip your ego to shreds and you're just letting them, can't you see he's setting you up? Good show of foresight and backbone kiddo," Arrow and Col... How the hell did she know their names? Maybe it was that psychic thing going on here. Either way, the two quiet, cute, scared, little ones got a break, they were good, and if Phenyo did this maybe she'd take some of the heat off the brat, even though he clearly didn't deserve it. Of course she wanted to leave anyway.

"And I am leaving now. This is stupid, I didn't even sign up for this and I already have your named carved into me," She snarled at Dyerlich"A few cracked ribs and now I'm just plain pissed off, so I shall take my leave," Phenyo gave a mocking flourished bow, wincing when her torso objected to the movement,"And let you lovely people do your thing without me."

Turning around on her heel she went and headed for the door. If there was any type of justice here, they'd leave the poor fresh Val alone, he didn't seem as strong mentally as he pretended to be. Though of course, she hoped she wasn't doing this in vain, that would really suck.

[Tally]

Roman crushed the cigarette out on the desk then flicked it to the floor.  "That," he said, answering Dyerlich's telepathy with is own, "depends entirely on what the dear boy chooses to do."  If Val had any sense—which was looking less and less likely—he might yet avoid the lesson Roman had planned for him.

He might yet get out of there with his body still intact.

The presence of so much psychic pressure in one room was beginning to weigh on Col's head.  Too many people, too many thoughts flying around.  A slow, persistent pain began to throb beneath his skull.  He rubbed at his temples and stared at the desk in front of his face, focusing on the color and grain on the wood as intently as he could to try and reflect some of the stray waves coming at him.  Movement caught his attention, though, and as Phenyo and Val made for the door his eyes followed them.

As did Roman's.

"Scher?" Roman pathed.  His telepathy was like a laser, focused, only detectable to the target.

Soaring high above the ATC, his dragon Scheherazade answered.  "Yes, o' shining star of my heart?"

"Do me a favor, love?  Lock the door to this room?"

"Since you asked so nicely."  And in the space of a half a second Scheherazade did so, digitally traveling down the backend line of command servers to the ATC core processor, through the individual proxies to the subserver that controlled the locks on every door in the ATC and finally to the maintenance controls for the door of Room 118.  The small green light on the locking mechanism flashed from green to red just as Val approached it.

Col heard the thick, industrial-strength lock thunk into place and the hairs stood up on the back of his neck.  They were all locked in.

Roman was on the verge of being irritated, not good news for any of them, and he let it show as he crossed his arms and sighed.  "Looks like the door is locked."  He glanced at the watch on his right wrist and said to Val, "I'd like to get this class over with sometime today candidate Val, so if you would."  He nodded at the empty space between himself and Dyerlich, a reiteration of his initial command.  "I need you to help me teach the rest of them."

Phenyo, though...he had to fight a smile when he looked at her.  After all Dyerlich had already done to her, and she pulled that stunt?  She was the type who would place her hand on a hot stove twice.  "Sit back down.  We're not even close to being done yet, and I wouldn't want you to miss this next part."

He then pathed privately to the other Pilot, "I don't envy you that one, mate.  She'd drive me up a wall.  'Course the lot of them ain't exactly impressing the hell out of me.  The Alaina girl seems to have her head on straight, though.  Anyway...I want candidate Phenyo to see this.  After that you can take her out and see to her discipline or let her stay for the rest of it."  Whether or not her outburst would be addressed was up to Dyerlich, her Pilot.  Roman was more focused on Val at the moment.

[Anonymous]

He felt sorry for these children. Their minds were so open and there was so much psychic power just running through this air. It was a horrible thing for all of them, since they had no idea how to block their minds that well. Hopefully he could start teaching Phenyo how to block all the outside powers, stopping herself from listening in on the wild thoughts that were around her. And for her to be so...impulsive.

Dyerlich could only smile when he saw the green light go red on the door.

Locked, finally.

Why hadn't he thought of that?

I hope it is a good meal then. Simple as that. Dyerlich enjoyed Roman because the man could make a person suffer, and in the oddest of ways. He could make a person get hurt, and he could get such a beautiful meal from the man. All that pain, the suffering, the cruel ways, he could just feed on that alone. It was good.

"You have asked, and I shall help." Dyerlich watched...very carefully, his eyes focusing on Phenyo for a moment. The outburst was...very bad for her. It was a whole lot of trouble and he was going to ensure she paid for it. Somehow. The punishment would come later, after the class. She was not going to leave from it, and he would not excuse her from this place. She will finish the class with the others my friend. Her powers are intriguing and have potential, but sadly her sass is...very wild. Dyerlich did enjoy the fact that she could be so...open.

In a way.

In another way however, it drove him up a wall. Her will was so strong, hard to break, she had such a weird...tactic. She calls me daddy, do you think that means anything? I know Wulf used to call me grampa when he thought I wasn't listening. Dyerlich flashed a look to his former candidate before looking to Phenyo carefully.

"Yes, Phenyo, if you could sit please." Dyerlich asked, he seemed almost bored really, he really wanted to see what was in store for poor Val actually. The boy was going to learn the same lesson that Dyerlich had tried to teach him, but now it would be...very Roman.

Poor fool hadn't a clue what was happening.

((Sorry that it's short but I'm rushed for time.))