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Chapter 6 - Life's Strange

Mid-Morning, November 16th - Schuster Hall

Scald-Crow
Back at the Principal's Office or more correctly the "Headmistress'" office. Today was not a day I wanted to go speak to Professor Dumbledore and get lemon drops. No, I just wanted to curl up in a ball after class and breathe through my increasing stress of being in a completely new school environment. Nope, I had watched some fucking bastard explode himself, and then my crush almost die. Well, I think she almost died. Then to top it all off I went on a raging tear against a bloody upperclassmen. If I wasn't in the stupid administrative offices right outside waiting to see Mrs. Carson I would be punching the shit out of my pillow, but nope, they'd sent Officer Rathcore to come to get me again this time.
Sophia was by my side and still annoyed that I'd gotten her pulled out of class for a second time. The first, I'd been in Doyle and now this time I was the instigator. Nicholas Brousard just had to open up his fucking mouth about her. If the stupid Melvillian bastard left good enough alone. No, the shit had to touch me and set me off. Luckily the auxiliary security who got involved listened to my story and I hoped I was off scot-free.
Nope, not at all would, now some asshole wanted to talk to me after I got a talking to by the Headmistress.

"Calm down lass, she'll understand. You were defending yerself an' ye were already wearin' the armband. That shite should have paid attention." Morgan said to me as I shifted in the wooden framed seats. The damn things reminded me of the chairs they had at my old Doctor's Office. Each lining the wall so prettily with padded backing and seats. Oh yes, and even that weird clinically clean scent was here as well. Miss Hartford was busily typing away on an assignment as I could see the ever-present glare of the screen in her glasses. Sophia beside me was reading something on her phone and giggled after a moment.

"Who ye textin" I drawled.

"Haruko - and a new friend, Kitty," she said in passing.

I paused as I heard the name and ran through my most recent memories. "Short Kitsune girl with two-tails?"

"Yeah, she's in my cottage. Her friend Rhys is pretty cute, but freaks out a bit much." She waved her hand to emphasize her thoughts before I considered picking up my own phone.

"Be a bit strange fer a text and fanfic reading demon such as yerself ta not be touching her gizmatic." I blushed at the reminder of the night before - two hours straight reading nothing but um, porn. It wasn't my fault that in the random scanning of the internet I found a copious amount of lesbian stories. It was also not my fault if instead of doing my homework I decided to spend forever reading a bunch of them

"Gráinne, you okay?" my best friend asked me as she noticed my slow breathing and the redness of my cheeks.

"Yeah - just was thinking." I let my voice trail off.

"Oh, you reading those smut stories again?" she smirked at me.

"No...just some Xena fanfiction," I immediately bristled at her joke.

"Calm down Rose, calm down," she sighed, "You’re not the only Exemplar who has 'throbbing hormones' in her system.

"Please -don't say it- like that," I groaned, "I just can't take reading any more of my old fantasy novels. None of them have girls like me in them."

"You mean the Viking shieldmaiden raging out in teen clothes?" Sophia snerked hard.

"No - gay women," I growled.

"Welcome to the heteronormative girlfriend. It sucks just like how white kids are the default in most stories," she shrugged.

"It sucks," I growled.

"Yes, and how do you think I feel with Native Americans being portrayed by shoe polished brown-face?" she asked with a sidelong glance.

"Shitty." I rolled my eyes, "So going to stop making fun of me?"

"Nah, you need to stop being offended. Embrace your sapphic desires just like I embrace my adorance for hard muscle and dick." The words came freely from my best friend’s mouth.

"I mean I don't hate-" I was stopped as the door to the office opened.

Just After Breakfast, November 16th, 2007 - Headmistress' Office

Maeve
"You will absolutely not be taking any of my students into custody!" Mrs. Carson snapped at the Irishwoman just as Maeve completed reading out her mission to the Headmistress. She herself once again dressed in her black combat fatigues as a strange counter to the finely pressed skirt and blouse of the Headmistress. This is Miss Astarte? Maeve was focusing her baby blues on the thirty-some-year-old Exemplar woman who was now clutching the edge of her desk in annoyance. Two hours ago she'd entered and presented Mrs. Carson with a request from the Irish Government. In reply, the Headmistress had succinctly told the Irishwoman where to shove it.

Where the sun doesn't shine, of course.

"Fine." She relented and stood before feeling her own rage growing by the minute. This woman was standing in between her and the one solid link she had to find her sister's killer. If the stupid former Cape would just give up her morals maybe for a little bit Maeve could get her job done.

"I want to be able to interrogate the child," Maeve laid out on the table.

"I don't have time to let you play Bad Cop with a Rager who nearly flattened an Upperclassmen yesterday," Mrs. Carson stood up and readjusted her skirt hem.

"YOU LET MY SISTER JOIN THE FUCKING FUTURE HEROS!" Maeve's eyes were narrowed as she thundered in reply.

"Yes, I know, and she was a great hero back home. Was she not?" the Headmistress didn't bat an eye.

"It's this stupid school's fault she's dead! If she'd been in the military we'd have protected her! Or she could have just remained a civilian," she considered unleashing fire right then and there on the woman. But the knowledge that the Exemplar could utterly pulverize her kept her reactions in check.

"It was because of Whateley your sister didn't get herself killed!" Mrs. Carson spat in return, "I've had it up to here with your bullshit Maguire! I understand you are in pain, but you don't get to project that onto those around you. Either cool your fucking desire for revenge or I will personally throw you off my campus! DO YOU HEAR ME!"

The Irishwoman wrapped her arms tightly around her chest before sitting down long enough. A day, an entire day they'd made her wait here and now she was 'this close' to getting the lead and this fucking veteran sat in her way. There was no way to measure the chill of her eyes as they were set in a mix of frustration and silent agony. All she wanted was closure and every step of the way to hunting for her sister's killer she was being sent two steps back. Fingers curled like claws against her arms as she let her nails dig in.

"FIne.....speak your peace." She settled further before leveling those cold blue eyes once again.

"A lot has happened this past year which has presented ongoing pressure against the school. You are already aware that we had a student accused of murder last Spring?" Carson asked nonchalantly.

"Aye, what of it?" Maeve hissed.

"Did you know we have a great old one or at least a larval entity living on our grounds?" the veteran hero inquired.

"I know that as soon as I stepped here that something akin to Faerie magic is in play. Something tied to the Starry Wisdom and the ancient rivals of the Good Neighbors." Maeve's words were typical as her Draoi witch-sense was bleeding with nonsensical aetheric lines shifting along the veil. There was something sitting just on the edge of her sight watching her and Carson speak. Bloody Faeries!

"Last time I met a Faerie Witch was during World War 2," Mrs. Carson murmured, "a woman by the name of-"

"She called herself Blackthorn...some still think she was a probability warper." Maeve uncrossed her hands and she sighed, "We think she was an early avatar hosting the Emerald Soul."

"Is that what you Irish are calling the spirit inhabiting my student?" Carson countered.

"Aye," she brushed her lip and continued, "Yes - an' I take it, Sinead, never toldja what was in her?"

"There was never a reason to - she had a non-sentient elemental sonic spirit," Carson replied.

"Has the girl toldja who's in her hallow?" Maeve asked.

"Only that the spirit's name is Morgan, we have our theories," Carson replied guardedly.

"It's the Morrigan, the Sovereign of Hosts, She Who Rages." The Headmistress’s eyes widened only the slightest as the war mage relayed her own hypothesis.

"A Faerie has not been active on the Whateley campus for two hundred years. Why are you so sure that one of the Gentry would even be here?" more of that guarded tone. Maeve grit her lip and her lips narrowed into a thin line. This fucking bitch is hiding something plus she feels off as well.

"Let's be more specific, a Dead Star stole the names of the Faerie and thus warped their magics. Whereas the related Mother's Get just hack commonalities across the planes and adjust their will to what they desire." Maeve said.

"Thanks for the magical lesson Mave, but I do believe I have more knowledge of the Great Old Ones than you do," Mrs. Carson says, "I do have a top researcher of ARC on staff plus my own personal experience with the Strange Geometries."

"Not all of us prescribe to that tinted nonsense Lovecraft wrote. I have a copy of the Book of Kellith," Maeve replied, "And I know Faeric formulae when I see 'em."

"Why have neither me nor any of my colleagues known of this?" she asked. She knows what I'm talking about. No way ARC doesn't know about the Rules of Faerie.

"I think you do and you are obviously lyin!" the Irishwoman drawled. Her eyes widened as she leaned forward in her seat and placed her hands on the edge of the Headmistress' desk.

"Quite an accusation, Second Lieutenant, are you here to ask permission or to strong-arm you're way in?" Mrs. Carson crossed her arms and inhaled slowly. Maeve sat down promptly and leaned back into her chair.

"I need ta find who kilt Sinead an' drag them kickin' and screamin' back to the darkest hole in all of Eire,' ' Maeve said slowly, her voice holding a breaking emotional cadence.

The Headmistress of the Whateley Academy rubbed both her temples before closing her eyes. Maeve searched the woman's features biting her lower lip as her desire for vengeance cooled for the moment. Whatever thin amount of patience the Second Lieutenant possessed she was finally realizing her military credential's meant little on the Academy's campus.

"Look, Maeve, I get it. I've lost family myself and that pain never goes away," Mrs. Carson sighed demonstratively, "and you can't let that fixation for closure take over your life."

"I getcha," Maeve drawled after a moment of silence, "I'll play noice wit yer students."
"All I can ask for," Mrs. Carson nodded before standing up and opening the door to her office.

Mid-morning, November 16th, 2007 - Headmistress' Office

Scald-Crow
So there I was, standing haughty before the Headmistress. My head held high, and my eyes lit with the flame of defiance. The very poets were ready to sing from my lips as I unleashed the vox populi of my defense! The minute rush of adrenaline and likely the internal rager in me gave me one blinding instant of defiance. That all but died just as the door closed and that loud forlorn THUNK of it shutting tight caused me to lose all my bluster. It ran from my lungs like the fleeing of deer before the wolves. This was not the friendly and yet foreboding realm of Headmaster Dumbledore. Nor was there a wheelchair-bound telepath back behind the desk ready to train me for the upcoming future. No, it was another blonde, another tall Exemplar Blonde who held all my life and future in her hands.

Fuck my life.

"Miss Ni Callaghan," Mrs. Carson was the first to speak. Her words instantly captured my attention as my head snapped hard to meet her gaze. Mrs. Carson could best be described as a statuesque woman with a classic 1950s beauty as was painted on the side of a WW2 Bomber. An utter bombshell who only kept my attention on her as the one thing popping in my mind was me fangirling over Lady Astarte standing in front of me.

"Yes um...miss I mean, Lady Astarte," I stuttered before Sophia glanced at me.

"I'm not Lady Astarte here Miss Ni Callaghan, I am Mrs. Carson," she corrected me without batting an eye.

"Sorry, Headmistress, I just, I have comics and Manga including you and Crown Justice." I murmured as the woman's eyes flicked over me and toward the other person present in the room sides Sophia and myself. She hadn't introduced herself at all, but by her solid black combat fatigues I guess she was some sort of black ops soldier. I mean who the hell walks around in black combat dress on a normal day? Soldiers of COBRA or maybe even HYDRA, not normal people.

"Ah, Ogun, good to see he's still inspiring a new generation," the Headmistress smiled before placing two file folders on her desk. Each flopped with an almost resonant sound causing me to stiffen as I felt the enclosing worry of expulsion coming for me.

"Shall we cover the basics, students?" The Headmistress took a seat and indicated for us to sit in the two chairs provided before her desk. As soon as we did she adjusted a pair of glasses to her face and opened one of the files.

"Sophia Jameson, formerly Sophia Langley-Jameson. Granddaughter of Northwestern indigenous Hero RavenWing and daughter of infamous Speedster, Swiftwing. It's always good to see legacies come to our school and so far you have conducted yourself magnificently on campus for your first week." I watched as Mrs. Carson closed the file and moved to what I could only guess was mine.

"Gráinne Roisin Ni Callaghan, or simply Gráinne O'Callaghan, formerly known as Padraig O'Callaghan," she began and raised her gaze to meet mine. "You were a B-rated student at your previous High School and were nearly expelled for violence against another student."
The woman in the black fatigues shifted where she stood. I watched her from where I sat and as soon as she noticed me I jolted and went back to listening.

"If it hadn't been for Mister Jameson you would have been taken and disappeared by the MCO," she said and I slumped in my seat. Why was she going over this in front of me? Was it to make a point? I knew I was a screw-up and had anger issues. Nearly killing Esoteric and ripping apart Gravmax on the same day was not something to toot my horn about.

"Stop bein’ such a Debbie downer lass, she's tryin' ta get ye the undarstand 'ow much shat yer in." I considered arguing with my spirit, but I already noticed Sophia shaking her head.

"Sorry Headmistress, she does this, her spirit is very talkative," I heard my best friend say as I blushed bright red.

"She is not the first student to get lost in an inner monologue nor will she be the last," Mrs. Carson said with a small chuckle.

"Can we move it along please," a throaty frustrated voice spoke from the corner of the room.

"Miss Maguire, -I- will decide when it is -your- turn to speak," Mrs. Carson growled before returning to her overview.
My right leg started to shake as I planted it firmly on the ground trying to control it. Anxiety disorder did that to me, placing me in a highly over aware state and making every little twitch worse each time around. For the first time since coming to school, I began the breathing exercises taught to me by Dr. Otto. Both Mrs. Carson and Sophia were waiting for something. After breath number four I felt my heart stop pounding in my ear.

"Gráinne," Mrs. Carson addressed me gently, "many students here have had experience at the hand of the MCO or worse. You are not the first student to overreact to a simple joke or even use too much strength in a combat spar."

"Yessum," I replied, "I'm so sorry I attacked Gravmax...he touched me and all I could do was..."

"Mister Broussard has been given detention for a week for triggering a marked rager," she began and folded her fingers together, "I believe a week assisting in cleaning the campus grounds would suffice."
Mrs. Carson closed the folder and placed both folders to the side. I let out a loud demonstrative sigh as I hoped that now I was about to receive my comeuppance.

"Miss Ni Callaghan, I have assigned an extra hour of therapy and we are seeking a personal tutor to help you with your anger," she told me. Trying my best to not roll my eyes in a proper teenage manner was not easy.

"Is there anything else you need to talk to us about?" I inquired.

"A lot actually," she motioned to the woman waiting in the corner.

"She's familiar...I know har." Morgan's voice rang in my skull.

"Allo," the word came out as the woman stalked into my field of view like a stalking pantheress. The first thing I noticed about her was the midnight black hair and her cold cobalt eyes. They burned with an intensity I could only call 'vengeance'. Her body was muscular from what I could make out from years of exercise most likely The raven head's body wasn't that of exemplar, no she worked for her body. Every move bled with years of training as she came to stand beside the Headmistress' desk.

"This is Second Lieutenant Maeve Maguire of the Irish Defense Forces," Mrs. Carson said, "and I will be observing her as she asks you a few questions."

"My turn?" Maeve asked in front of me and shot a glance at Mrs. Carson who gave a clearly controlled nod before the woman began.

"What do ye wan ta know?" I asked as my accent dripped with Morgan's taint.

"See dat dere be a sign," the woman leaned toward me in my chair causing me to instinctively move back. "No bloody yank stars tahkin' laik she's fram the wes' o Eire so easily."

"Me spiri' is Irish," I said fighting the shift on my tongue, "she calls harself Morgan."

"Hmmm, ye see lass," she knelt down by me just after I gave away the name of my Spirit. "Dat dere's da rub, me sister Sinead, she called har spiri' Morgan as well."

"Shite...Sinead's lil sister...she was a hellion." Morgan commented. "I barely remember much, bu' she wen' ta military camp cuz she refused ta attend Whateley."

"Ah, aye dere tis," she drawled coldly, "dat vacant look Song Spirit use ta get. Except, Morgan didna talk ta har, just show her scenes evry now an' den."

"Yer - yer sister was Song Spirit? THE SONG SPIRIT!" I gushed for a moment.

"Dat's the one," she said with a smile dripping with calculation. "She was murdered. Har heart crushed jus' a few weeks ago."
I wasn't sure how to respond to Maeve's statement at all. A loss of words stole my tongue as I tried to fight my silenced voice. What do I do now? I shifted where I sat and my leg started to shake even more. My eyes closed hard and I tried to breathe through the stress building in my chest. It increased with each beat of my heart as I could hear the rush of blood in my ears. I was not going to give in to the rage. This woman was the sister of a host of my spirit, just like me we were kin in a way, I guess.

"She may be kin lass, bu' by kith'n'kin I dun hafta ta laik har," Morgan's burr was far more throaty now. A feral growl rumbled in the background as she said each syllable. The Raven of the Centre had come and was ready to meet Maeve.

"Morgan remembers bits an' pieces from Sinead's death," I began as images immediately came to mind without a single command. A cavalcade of motion and imagery attacked my sight. First, a dark room smelling of disinfectant and the slow beeping of medical equipment. My body was covered in a thin paper made gown. I could even feel the cool air outside my regulation blankets. What was this, what was I seeing?! I exhaled loudly as I opened my eyes and let my view fall upon the wall.

That's when I noticed the strange shadow lacking a person and or thing in the room. It was very faint, just at the point where my view of what lay behind the right of the desk disappeared. Every single hair on the back of my neck went rigid as fear crawled down my spine. The shadow seemed to walk along the desk before disappearing from view.

"The emotion...is drawing them."

"Wha do ye remembar lass?" the Irishwoman asked me.

"Uh," I once again unsure what to say, "A hospital room. I'm alone - it's night."

I closed my eyes in time to feel the scenery of the room fall away like a wave crashing over the rocks. It passes through me and instantly I'm back in the hospital. I'm frozen in time though as cold constriction like freezing water surrounds my limbs. Even my breathing becomes labored. Immediately, I scan the room painfully slow battling my frozen neck muscles all the way. Just as I'm about to finish my scan I hear it, a silent malignant voice.

"Tick-tock." I shiver as the feminine voice spits out the words dripping with malevolent joy. Each and every sound coated in corruptive malice as much as the deadly twisted magicks used to bring her there. Morgan shifts in my skin giving me that utterly terrifying dissociative feeling I get. How to put it? When my spirit moves in my hallow it feels like every two-inch layer of my meat sack is covering something else - something alien. I shook as the disconnection continued while I tried to glean any details I could. The words, "Tick-tock" repeated as Morgan drew upon the fragments of memory she had left.

"Tick-tock, rider's run out the clock." The words drew my attention to movement just outside of my field of vision, or so I thought. Again, I fought the freezing of my muscles as the air around me felt viscous and fluid-like. Fighting it used up so much of my energy I finally saw it or at least part of it. A humanoid form standing in the reflection of the mirror, just at the foot of the bed.

"Ah, a new rider, tick-tock, little girl." How could the voice know I was there?! Narrowing my eyes I tried to make out what was in the window. A body wearing a victorian era dress was barely visible in the nighttime glare of the window. Distinctive white petticoats held up the dark grey and black dress. The body moved, and as I noticed the lack of a head I gasped out loud.

"DULLAHAN!" I tried to pull away from the image as the body came to face me and started to get closer. It stepped perfectly like any person would and leaned against the foot of my bed.

"Tick-tock little girl. I WILL FIND YOU!" the words came as a shattering shriek to my ears. Outside of my dream I grasped my ears and tried to push back at the sound.

"Gráinne, come back!" I heard Mrs. Carson's voice like I was underwater. It was garbled and I could only make out the barest hint of what she meant.

"Stupid, foolish, little girls make pretty little graves," the headless woman drew closer, "And must have coin ta pay the ferryman's toll!"

She was now kneeling on the bed and as she did something strange happened. The horrific image of the headless woman shifted and flashed as one might see in a movie. I could describe it as two images blitzed against each other and all of a sudden I saw her, the black-haired girl from the mirror. Whatever was left of the headless victorian wench was replaced by a short almost bulimically thin woman. Her hair fell down across her face in stringy dirty locks. Her eyes were hidden by a dark greasy unwashed hoodie.

But goddess I could still see the flicker of her contempt from within the shadow covering her upper face. The woman's lips were chapped and cracked from misuse. Her teeth were stained with coffee and cigarette smoke. It was utterly atrocious to me and even as I felt myself shrinking away from her she drew closer. The woman's lips formed into a tight purse line as her jaw seethed as she tried to control herself.
"YE CANNA "AV HAR!" came a roaring growl in the depths of my mind.

"I will rider, I will! Yer time is up Child of the White Oak, I hav' yer name an' hars. I will come for ye, an' ye will pay the toll to the Banshee's wail!" The words were harsh, and I could feel the hatred bleeding from every word. I tried to back up against the headboard of the bed. There was nowhere for me to go. I screamed in fright as the girl crawled closed and suddenly a knife was in one of her hands. A cruel-looking thing with a triangular blade that seemed to shimmer like quicksilver.

"Not yet, Dullahan," I heard the words outside my dream and felt as if my body was being jerked back hard. It was similar to the feeling I got just after a roller-coaster finished its course and the breaks were suddenly engaged. That hard pull against my body yanked me out of my dream and back into the waking world. I was surrounded by Sophia on my right, Mrs. Carson appeared worried at her desk, and on my left was Maeve Maguire. My body was covered in cold sweat and I could feel fear like chilled water in my veins. My skin felt wrong, all of my body felt wrong.

"Tick-tock lil girl. I'm comin fer ye!" the voice whispered at the edge of my ears. Only Maeve seemed to react to it as her face hardened into a frustrated scowl.

"Dammit..." the Irishwoman muttered under her breath.

"I believe it is time for lunch," Mrs Carson said, "Sophia, Gráinne, you are both free to leave for lunch."

A slow pain now was all I could muster. Sophia helped me out of my chair and I barely found my footing on shaky feet. Everything felt wrong-sick. It was like someone stomped on my grave with waffle-soled boots. Entire bits of my body were a patchwork of numbness or light burning pain. I needed rest, and just one nod from Sophia told me she was going to escort me to the lunch line so I could hopefully recover a little from my ordeal.

Lunch Period, November 16th, 2007 - Crystal Hall

Maeve
"Miss Maguire," Mrs. Carson called from the desk, "A word."

So close and now, she had to pay the piper. Maeve felt every single muscle in her body go rigid. Tension fell over her as she about-faced to meet the raging glare of Lady Astarte. Maeve's eyes widened at the glare, and it took all of her strength right there and then not to smirk. I went beyond what she wanted me to. So this is what Sinead meant by not pissing off the Headmistress. She was battle-hardened, blooded on Provisional Republican soldiers and dark witches from across Europe. The ring upon her finger began to send small chills across her hand. A warning, something was watching them.

"Aye?" was all she said sardonically.

"If you want to remain on my campus you will not overstep, again," the Headmistress delivered each word with sharp precision.

"Aye," she replied, dropping to a full attention stance.

"Good, we will speak to her again tomorrow," Mrs. Carson stated.

"Aye, m'am." Maeve retained her rigid posture for a few moments before getting the small nod letting her know she could leave.

"And Second Lieutenant," she froze as Mrs. Carson said with all the strength of Lady Astarte. "We'll find the murderer, just trust me."

"Aye," she croaked as she left the room and entered the primary office. I was supposed to be on my own, no one else, at all!. Now, I have to dance to her tune. Or I'll never learn why Sinead was killed. Her mind lingered on that thought for just a bit longer. The Dullahan wanted the rider, but why the Emerald Soul. She couldn't fathom the direct answer as she tried to remember all on the dossier. Four or so hosts dating back to the first, Moira.

"Where can I fin' a bi' o' food round here?" she asked the Assistant Headmistress.

"There's a large offering of food in either the student lunch hall, or the faculty lounge," the woman replied. Maeve scanned the other blonde carefully and finally let the name sink in, 'Miss Hartford.'

"Tank ye, Assistant Headmistress," she smiled as the cold rage burned in both. The muscles used to create a knowing smirk flinched into place long enough before she turned on her right heel. Long direct strides saw her zip past a row of students who all froze upon seeing the black-clad woman. Her fatigues of course would easily draw the attention of anyone she walked past. Then there was the six-foot-tall woman covered in distinct cobalt tattoos all across her pale skin. Maeve stopped and glanced as the woman met her gaze.

"Irish Black Ops?" the woman asked.

"Aye," she replied and crossed her arms.

"Huh, nice to see one of you crazy bitches here," the woman replied nonchalantly. Cold fiery blue met quicksilver and a single note of respect passed between them.

"Good ta be 'ere," Maeve smirked before watching the woman walk past her.

Hmmm, so that's the Artificer, note to self - give wide berth. One thing she hadn't recognized right away was the pulse of essence seemingly emanating from the girl. She closed her eyes and opened her right as she uttered the words, "Sight of Odin". The entire mess hall was covered in latent aetheric echoes. Imprints from where the dark magic had stained the veil between that of the mirror.

"No matter how much ye try, ye canna scrub away all the stains," her teacher had taught her. A smile curled her lips as she dodged around another student eagerly running to meet his friends at a nearby table. The woman stopped in the flood of people giving time to scan the entire Crystal Hall. Each level appeared to be taken by different ranks of students. Her mind began to catalog the glimpses of aetheric patterns and assess possible threats. The whisper of several avatars seen as light auras across where they once were was noted. However, not a bit of faerie presence, no foundlings, good.

She closed her right eye as the spell ended and felt the exchange of essence required to fuel it. A small chill entered her right eye as she was stopped, or more prudently, she stopped. Her regular witch sense felt a strong aetheric signature just in time for her to almost collide with a student. This one in particular drew the woman's attention as a head of red vulpine hair entered her vision. What was far more interesting was the two fox ears atop the student’s head.

"Excuse me," she said in apology.

"No, no, it's okay I don't mind being run over by a woman in uniform," the fox girl replied.  She tilted her head as she examined me.

"Out of state, I assume?" the girl asked.

"Ou' o' nation mar like," she murmured as she realized just how close those vulpine ears were. They were just nearly under her chin to the point of them being close to flush. Without a sign of blush, she skipped back and eyed the redhead for a moment. Short, really short, maybe just under a meter and a quarter. Just as she moved back she got a shot of the girl's rather bountiful valley of cleavage, and she closed her eyes.

Bloody feckin' exemplar women. The Irish woman noted the redhead regarding her and she seemed to ask, "So, You are?"

"Nunya business," she snarked as she noted the large serving of corn beef not far away. A bit of the salty beef would settle her nerves along with the bit of the pure lingering in a flask hidden on her person. Now just to get around the girl and she would be free for a lil-

"Oh, mature, I get it," the girl retorted.

"I do not duel words wit' children," Maeve's blue eyes narrowed as she considered casting the Sight of Odin, something was off by this girl.

"I am not exactly a child," the redhead replied with an arched brow. The girl crossed her arms underneath her breasts doing nothing to hide that valley of plenty.

"No, ye eren't," she said. Maeve considered right there to scan the girl to find out the source of her GSD. There was something off about her, but a glance along the veil showed no faerie essence. Just the skittering of small spirits lingering near staining in the veil.

"So who are you G.I. Jane?" The question came with a minor insult.

"Military lesbian, ye?" Maeve shrugged. She held her ground as she continued to regard the lass.

"Sexuality," the girl gave a wry smile, "isn't exactly part of the label.

"Wha ye wan wit the G.I. Jane references. Tad old fer ye isn't it?" the Irishwoman inquired. This appeared to annoy the girl.

"Physical age has little to do with maturity," she quipped, "or education, or other experiences."

"Nah," she shrugged and curled her lip, "I seem ta hav' struck a nerve. Whatcha hidin' short stack?"

"Nunya - business," fox-ears said with a grin as she winked.

"Good response dere lass," Maeve stepped around her and gave one last glance before adding, "Is mise Méabh Nic Uidhir."

The girl inclined her head in return and the smile did not leave her lips. "Catherine Fox. It's been a pleasure making your acquaintance Miss."
The Irishwoman turned at hearing the name Fox, a name popping up from her memory about a woman from a long time ago. A certain woman by the name of Jennifer Fox.

"So yer the younges' o' da Lady Briar's batch eh?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

The girl, Catherine, inhaled softly before pressing her lips together before giving a nod, "Yes...last year was...trying."

"If ye wan ta ever tahk bout it. Iam on campus fer a few days - just ask ta see Glass Witch." She said before turning around and making a beeline for the food.