Hi there everyone! I have had a bit of an idea shortage lately, and now I'm going on this 3-week trip, so I won't be here for a while, but I'm coming back in a bit, hopefully with a few ideas. Bye!!

| Rallie |

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I ran down the hallway, trying to get away.

Ten minutes earlier, I was thinking about the rune-magic exam while walking to math, when I heard a voice. The next thing I knew was lying on the ground, feeling slightly woozy, and very confused. Then I began to run.

The hallway had come to an end, and there was a large wooden door. I turned the handle and went through. Why was it unlocked? I think it led to the woods outside the school. Exploring the area, I came to a deep, mossy ravine, which looked eerily familiar.

I turned around, and I could see the door when I heard strange voices. I walked closer, hoping to hear more. I heard the voice that I heard before I went unconscious. Running away, I kept my eyes on the trees ahead of me. My foot caught a root, and I fell into the ravine. Before falling, though, someone had caught me. I didn't know who. I'd scrambled down and out, and ran towards the school before seeing them, despite their calls for me to wait.

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Sorry for not posting a part in a while!

~Dorrie~

Alchemy continues to be my favorite class for the rest of the week. It's interesting, I like it, and I happen to be good at it. Also, it comes first, so that means I can enjoy myself until history, which can be dull, or casting-magic, which isn't really looking up.

On Friday, as I am heading to breakfast, I can sense some kind of change in the air. The thing is, I don't know what it is, not until I turn around from the serving table to face the majority of Aspen Hall. And then I see it. 

For the first time this school year, Aspen Hall contains chairs. However, they are not matched chairs, because in the row closest to me I can see an office chair, a rickety little garden chair, an armchair ragged enough to be surviving from the founding date of Petrichor, a very tall rocking chair, a milking stool, a sit-down stick, and a crate. As well, the chairs all face one way, and there are no tables, which strikes me as strange. Knowing it'll be difficult to find someone in this mess of people, I sit down in the office chair to eat. The sounds, almost piano-ish, of the magic at Petrichor wind their way through my head, which I've gotten used to, and then there is something else. Instead of the customary quiet, pleasing chiming of the wands, Philosopher's Stone, enchantments, and paving stones, there is the noise that I attribute to trains flying through my head. Not an electric train, mind you--one that is seeming to run on magic? 

Confused, I rush up the stairs to the turret where astronomy classes take place. The teacher, who I haven't really met, is standing there with a book. 

"Hello, can I use your telescope?" I ask. 

"Sure," says the teacher, surprised. "Don't point it at the sun." I find one of the smallish telescopes that resemble spyglasses from pirate stories and walk to the window. Outside, trees and a river. And a train...a train with the crest of Petrichor Academy on it. What? The train is very soothing, winding between trees at a comfortable pace.

I remember my first train journey, which happened when I was three, when my parents drove the car from our little house in a village called Wirksworth to the train station in a nearby town. Then we took a train to a different station, and then another one, and then we were in London. We crossed the street to the right train station and stood in a line for a very long time, and then we were on another train that went through a tunnel, and when it came out we were in France.

Still. A nice memory, but an irrelevant one. I continue to peer through the spyglass. There are no people inside the train, but there is a huge selection of folding chairs inside, as in folding chairs that are commonly found in school lunchrooms...

I think I know where the chairs are.

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Questions: 

1. Does Petrichor have a uniform?  

2. How did the students get there? It can be by the train or I can think of some other excuse for the train.

Name: salem viotto

age: 14

gender/Pronouns: female she/Her

appearance: flaming red Hair, blue eyes, about 5'7,pale Skin with an Abundance of Freckles, and    very Very thin

personality: very honest But Most take that as her Just being rude, a bit judgy, And a little Bit mad 

Skills/abilities: seems very adept in the classes Typical for humans but struggles in the more magical       subjects (her teacher blame a Lack of confidence but her peers just Call her stupid)

house: house kelpie

other: salem is taken By most students to be a dumb bully with A little bit Of mental Instability but       her few friends know that She is was just raised to be This way.

I am offically dropping out of this RP as I have not been keeping up.

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~Dorrie~


After breakfast, I head off to alchemy, which is enjoyable, and then there is The Time Of Day When I Have No Classes. After I have written down the chair incident and the train, I write down, and promptly cross off, several speculations: 
Does the train actually belong to Petrichor? Well, it should, because it has not only the name but the crest.
Are the chairs from Aspen Hall actually in the train? It looks like it. 
Is the train actually running on magic? Stop actually-ing yourself, you sensed it
Where on earth are the present Aspen Hall chairs from? Now that’s a valid question. 
Then the bell rings for Literature, and then there is lunch. The Aspen Hall situation hasn’t changed, but as I am trying to eat, I can swear that out of the corner of my eye, I have seen a chair rise out of the ground…
Healing goes by very quickly and nicely. Then it’s time for Double Period. I glance at the piece of paper that I have scribbled on to make into a schedule. Dorrie, don’t think about it, I tell myself. Do not think about going to rune-magic. Today is Thursday and whether you want to or not you have to go to casting-magic. I glare at the sheet of paper, shake it to make my displeasure known, and then trundle off to Casting-Magic, doing a complicated rune-magic spell on the corner of the schedule in order to use up some magic for an easier time controlling myself. I enter and sit down. As usual I am early, but the teacher, whose name I still haven’t learned (and for the record it’s been three weeks) doesn’t like me, so I find it best to be early. 
“Doran, how are you today?” says the teacher in a poisoned-honey voice. Hmm. Has he forgotten my name or is he being friendly? I put it down to name-forgetting because I am not anything of his friend. The rest of the class comes in and I get my wand out of my bag. 
“Welcome,” says the teacher. “We will now be doing a Watering Spell, so please fill the glasses in front of you with water. The word to say is on the chalkboard. Try not to flood the whole classroom.” The teacher looks right at me on the last sentence and I am already blushing. Stay calm, I try to reprimand myself, and I kick the floor, squeeze my fists, and make a terrible face at the desk before trying to do the spell. Most people’s glasses are already full, and then I mutter the appropriate magic word and stab the wand at the glass. 
“Doran, what did I just say?” says the teacher. The rest of the class turns to look at me—nice, they know me by my unabbreviated first name now too. I look down at the desk; sure enough, there’s water spilling from the glass onto the desk. Oops. 
“You just said, Professor, that I should try not to flood the whole classroom,” I tell the teacher, balling my hands into fists and gritting my teeth.
“And it looks like you have, Doran,” the teacher tells me in the poisoned-honey voice. 
“I’d hardly say that this is the whole classroom,” I say back. “Look. It’s just my desk.” The whole class is looking at us now.
“And the water is spilling off of ‘just your desk’ into the whole classroom,” says the teacher. Slowly and carefully, I lower my gaze from the teacher to inside my head, searching through the familiar magic noises until I reach…aha. The teacher’s wand. Sail out of your owner’s pocket and wipe up the water, I tell it. 
“What, Doran? What did you just say? Did you just tell me to sail out of my owner’s pocket and wipe up the water? I am a human being! I have no owner! This will lead to your…ohh, I see. That’s sailing out of its owner’s pocket and wiping up the water? I had no idea you were a… Nope. Never mind. Get out of this classroom right this second!” Argh, I’ve said the request out loud. And what am I? What was the teacher going to call me? Orders, as I do know, are orders, so I gather my belongings and walk out the door. However, I am pleased that the last thing I see is the teacher’s wand sweeping about, and that the last thing I hear is the teacher telling the rest of the students to leave. 
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Okay. Sorry it's so long. And no, I'm sorry to say that that teacher is up to (mostly) no good...