Terra X Oc

P2: To the water and the wild continued

After a long silent ride of contemplation you finally arrive at the impressive gates of Alfea college. As they creek open seemingly by themselves, anxiety prickles the bottom of your stomach yet you convince yourself that that's a ridiculous lapse of judgement, reminding yourself or your reputation as a fearless warrior. Turning your head up with new found confidence you are met with the sight of who you presume to be Farah Dowling and a man in some sort of tactical gear. You knew the other students arrived yesterday so the scarcely populated front lawn gave you a small amount of comfort; knowing that you had a few moments to yourself before facing the stares and murmurs. Realising that once again you were stuck in your head, you quickly pushed open the door and stepped down, unflinching, as you walked to face the two adults waiting by the doors.
"Ah Y/n, welcome to Alfea, I do hope you travelled well" her voice was soft and inviting yet your natural suspicion ensured a cold silent response to her words until you fully assessed the situation. Your thoughts were slightly eased by her next words "I'm headmistress Dowling and this is Silva headmaster of the specialist academy you will be attending." With both people introduced and as warm a welcome as you could get Mrs Dowling escorted you to her office alongside Silva in hopes of explaining why she was so glad to hear of your prompt agreement to attend Alfea College.

Once you were sat in a deep blue velvet chair with two dark wood armrests holding you in, you gazed around Ms Dowling's office. You hadn't seen so many interesting things in one room before; your uncle priding himself on a strict focus on your value as a soldier not an academic or a fairy. He always felt uneasy at the power fairies held over specialists like him who could only rely on their physical strength and weapons training in a fight. You on the other hand, have always been intrigued by their ability to tap into ancient magic, each one able to master something like the elements of the earth or the complexities of the mind. Or so you've read. With little time outside your uncle's censorship, your knowledge of the fairy world was somewhat lacking, but you felt honoured at the thought of fighting beside one.

Getting your attention back on her by clearing her throat, Ms Dowling spoke through her amusement at your awe. "How much do you know about your father?" At the mention of him you felt your shoulders tense, time has yet to heal the wound of his death, and you suddenly felt very aware of Ms Dowling's prying stare and Silva's presence hovering behind you by the door. "Not much." You said through your gravelly throat from not speaking in a while. Your words seemed to hang heavy in the air and echo about the back of your brain, being the first words you have spoken other than niceties upon greeting them.
Farah and Silva went on to reminisce some of their excursions with your father, explaining how he was a good soldier, a great one even, and an even better person. The grief of not being able to get to know him yourself and guilt at being so helpless the day both your parents died, made your eyes itch with un-shed tears. To distract yourself and ease some of the tension in your face, you scratched at the bumpy skin lining the scar across your cheek. It was nice not having people stare at it as they talk to you, as though they can't see who you are past a patch of raised skin, despite your unease at the new environment you had to admit that both teachers were being very respectful and understanding. Although you were sure this would all change once the students saw your face. Your resentment for the monster that left it's mark on your skin returned even after so many years and you dropped your hand as Ms Dowling's sympathetic eyes dropped to the marking.

After the formalities and introduction were out of the way, Silva began leading you to your first specialist lesson. As you start nearing the mats, sounds of forceful impacts and clashing bo staffs reach your ears. In a twisted way it made you feel at home. Before you even came off the paths leading to specialist training, people began to look up, with one look at your scar and defensive posture they pauses their sparring to whisper and gape. You knew this would happen, you had heard the rumours, yet it still hurt feeling so alienated already. You tried to tell yourself that maybe they just need to get to know you but your reputation weighed on you and your natural silence and cold eyes will only add to that.