Ninth House | Official RP Thread


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"I find it hard to believe that someone as enchanting as you has no dreams”, Devon laughed softly at his statement, her features lit by a slow, playful grin forming on her lips. She acted coyly towards the charming gentleman, replying, Hey, I’m telling the truth, I don’t have it all figured out yet”. Her smile grew wider, the light glinting off her mask as she adjusted it. She tried to conceal her longing behind the mask, but the subtle gleam of desire in her eyes betrayed her. From her champagne-fueled lust down to him, all of her thoughts begin to drift into a different space.

"Everyone has a small fire in them. Is it almost out? Possibly. But until I’m dead, it’s still there. A little flicker. And I can’t let myself believe that your fire is out”. The words spewed from his mouth with effortless lyricism, like it was his natural ability. His voice was melancholic, but carrying a sense of hope, as if he was truly speaking from the heart. With a little pat on his shoulder, she offered slight reassurance, sensing the man’s seriousness when his statement mentioned death. ”Wow, I wonder what his thoughts sound like”, she thought to herself. Devon met his gaze with a warm smile, "Well, if you put it that way, I guess you’re right”. She raised a brow jokingly, "Don’t you have an answer for everything?”. With his words came a heaviness, a heaviness that Devon pondered on.

The man appeared to flinch slightly at her question, what she thought initially to be a harmless inquiry. Her smile faltered briefly as she hoped that she hadn’t upset him by mistake. Correcting her face, Devon tried harder to decipher him, but he wore a pensive look, his eyebrows pulled together, like he was in a deep thought. Then, as if he landed on his answer, his beautiful smile reappeared. "In 10 years, I see myself following my passion for writing. I’d probably go back to Norway, take over my piyāgē(father’s) hotel business. Experience new cultures and meet fascinating people”. With a soft exhale, she smiled again, tucking a loose strand behind her ear. While she may have no hopes and dreams as of now, she couldn’t help but feel happy for the alluring man. "Wow, that sounds great”, she began, "I love traveling, I’ve never been to Norway though, and a hotel business? Isn’t that interesting”. She giggled a little towards the end, amused at her own gushing.

Feeling the music and the atmosphere, Devon closed the distance between them, her lips mere inches from his ear. "Look up behind me”, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "There’s a staircase”, she paused again, placing an arm on his shoulder, " I wonder where it leads . . .". Pulling away from his ear, Devon shook in excitement, "C’mon, I saw something up there!”.

@Tina.G - Oggy


Vinnie banner and colors later

She whispered in his ear and he huffed, waiting for her to cool her overconfidence. “You seriously think you’re special enough for me to obsess over you??” Vincenzo rebutted without hesitance. “I didn’t stop because yeah, revenge is nice, but at the end of the day, you’re not any different from the other girls. I guess you must just love yourself because no one else does. I was one of your only what, two friends? Because the other people in your life are definitely just using you for your body. I doubt any of them actually like you for the stuck-up b^tch you are.” She stared at him idly and he spoke for her. “This is me, Amani, mask off. Did you miss me?” Vincenzo exhaled, reflecting on her own speech. “But for the record, I didn’t tell Ren everything I told you.” Enzo admitted, his heart sinking just a little bit before he had to recover, showing his own arrogance again.

Then, once again, she tried to hit him where it hurt. And Vinnie knew what she was doing, but her knife still punctured his skin. He wished he could correct her about his parents, but the truth was that he did not even know how they died. He did not know who they were, he knew nothing. He only remembered the thoughts he had about it as a boy. He imagined his mom was a princess and his dad was a knight; they fought dragons together, and loved each other so much. He remembered telling himself that they didn’t keep him because they had the world to save; they were like superheros, and he was doing a noble thing by letting the world keep them as protectors instead of hogging them to himself. What Amani said made him feel like she saw through him, right into his heart where his inner child lived, and it was that little boy who she was insulting.

“Watch your fcking mouth.” He commanded. “And what do you know about love, either? You’ve never had a relationship in the four years I’ve known you, even though you let any guy have his way with you.”

Vincenzo turned his head down, clasping his hands together. He knew he shouldn’t act like that, so he collected himself to taunt her a bit more civilly. “I should have let you fall out that window, too.”

“And I think you’re a little mad.” Amidst his anger, a smile threatened to blossom on his lips, his blue eyes glinting. “Are you feeling insecure because of how easy it is to get past you? Because if I was in your place, I would be too. But I’m not, am I? As much as you try to dig at me with my past, I got what I wanted, and that kills you.”

He lowered his voice. “Come closer so you can hear me clearly.” But obviously, she didn’t listen, so he stood up off the bed to her height, and rose his hands to her sides sensually as he leaned closer with his mouth inches from her ear, just getting one last token of her memory.

“If I’m your little dog, good luck erasing my bite marks off your skin.” He whispered, smirking again.

Before she could paw him off, he dropped his hands to his sides and off of her hips. She gave him an angered expression as soon as he saw her again, but he knew she felt chills when he spoke.

After the fact, she complained about him once more. ”Oh no! I left you when I found out you were a poor, sad guy with no family and money and blah blah. Get over it,” she rambled, but if he was not mistaken, somewhere in that rant he caught a glimpse of the Amani he actually liked. But before he could catch her, call her out on her bullsh^t, because their argument had ended. He did not even notice before he had his mask on again, alone. He was angry, his heart concaved behind his lungs, he was crestfallen and furious.

Vincenzo left the room, a gust of wind hitting him as he left. He paced to his room, not even bothering to close the door behind him, and picked up his flask off the nightstand, took a swig, and walked back outside with the drink in-hand.

He needed something; somewhere to go.

So he stormed through the hall until he saw it. Since no one was supposed to be in the hallway during the masquerade ball, and it was half-past campus curfew anyway, all of the lights in the halls were off, so Vincenzo could only see through the light of glass walls and windows. It was a bit dark still, but in a better clearing of skylight, he saw the piano.

He slid onto the seat, tearing his mask back off, and the alcohol was finally taking effect. The room felt heavier, and his mind too light, his eyes taking a picture of the scene only for the camera to shake in the middle.

Looking at the instrument, he thought of a song to play, and unscrewed the top of his flask again, taking another swig.


He swallowed, and it tasted almost sweet. The song came to him at once.

Putting the drink back, he placed his thick fingers on the keys of the piano carefully. Without much thinking, they guided themselves across the instrument, pressing deep into each note as the song readied for his words.

vibes - you can either listen to the lyrics or read the poem, whichever works

From a mothers breast
Dropped a liquid white
It fell like tear drops
seeped into the earth
In the dirt it hardened, calcified
It formed my bones
Dying before birth
I rose a skeleton….
I rose a skeleton.
Skin and flesh grew onto the surfaces like mold
My skin is blue
My face is pale
My only chance to glow happens under moonlight

So don’t blame me for being nocturnal
Don’t blame me for loving the truths that only come out at night
They’re just like me
The things you don’t talk about
They’re all I have
So when I have no one to talk to
I’ll tell my piano about us-

Before he could finish, footsteps sounded nearby. He looked up from the keys, and shining in the distant golden sparks from the ballroom, Vincenzo saw a woman in a beautiful navy dress, with a skirt covered in glitter that twinkled like stars. She seemed like she was lost, or perhaps confused. He wondered what she was running from, and Vincenzo could not discern her identity from far away, but as soon as he stopped playing, he saw her turn to face him. Her mask was gradated, with the brightest blue on the bridge of her nose, and her eyes were dark; piercing as they met his.

“Are you looking for something?” He asked, his serious features clear for her to recognize.

@Mouschi Esther
@kristi Amani
@madilnel Ren
Hope this is good :face_with_peeking_eye:


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“It can be.” He responded with a suggestive smirk. His dance partner was right, it was still early in the night and so much could happen. With the way that the taller man was holding his waist, he hoped that whatever did happen to him tonight involved him. His own arms were wrapped around the man’s neck. As they danced and he got more comfortable, and more tired, he leaned on him more and more. At one point, he was tempted to put his head on his partner’s shoulder but even though he had decided he was being bold tonight, he thought it might be too forward. After all, they had only just met and he didn’t even know his name yet.

He tried his hardest to keep himself from blushing while the man was complimenting him but he was unable to stop a shy smile from tugging at his lips. The smile became a smirk as the man teased him by saying he wouldn’t give him his name. “Giving me the Cinderella treatment? Are you going to run away at midnight?” He teased back. Though his hint of his name sounding like the word ‘song’ made Tae pause to think for a second about what his name could possibly be. “Wait. Is it an English name?” He asked, thinking of his own non-English name. He was hoping that he would at least be able to get that much from him if he won’t tell him what his name is.

Tae laughed a little when the other man mentioned having scared himself with his appearance but he couldn’t deny that it made him a little sad because he thought people wouldn’t want to talk to him. Then he mentioned meeting a fine guy and Tae blushed when he told him that he was talking about him. “Well, I definitely found you mysterious but I don’t know that scary is a word I would use. Especially now that I’ve gotten to know you. I think you are the farthest thing from scary.” He reassured him. Tae was usually more of a reserved person and so he found something about the man’s rambling to be comforting since he didn’t have to speak as much. “I think the film you’re thinking of is Harry Potter but anyways, my favourite genre of music is alternative. I really like Avril Lavigne but lately I’ve also been into this Korean band called The Rose. I don’t sing but I do play guitar.”

As the dancers began to disperse, Tae felt a tap on his shoulder. It was his dance partner, who was offering for them to go somewhere where people won’t be looking at them. He had an idea of what he was suggesting and he was curious to see if it would go in the direction he was thinking. “Well, we could always go up to my room. I could show you my record collection.” He suggested with a mischievous grin. There were some other…activities that they could do in his bedroom but he decided to keep it PG13 while there were people who could overhear. The other man took Tae’s hand and lead him away from the ballroom but after a moment or two, turned back to him looking confused. “I take it you’re new here, then?” He already had a suspicion about this but it was hard to tell with the masks and even if he wasn’t, it was entirely possible that they just hadn’t interacted before for whatever reason.

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@cordyx - Seung-Min


So the speech was probably not the best idea. Now he sat in Adrian’s office, feeling not so out of place. Did this mean they were on a first-name basis now? Renlin had been escorted in by a professor, who seemed uninterested in Renlin’s attempts at small talk. He had tried to lighten the mood with casual questions about the professor’s summer, any adventures he may have had, or even jokingly asking about retirement plans. But the professor was not having it, maintaining a stoic demeanor throughout the short journey to Adrian’s office. So here he sat now, in the presence of the man in charge, listening intently as his name was spoken.

Renlin chuckled nervously. “Oh, you know how it is, sir. Just trying to keep up with the family reputation,” he replied, attempting to downplay any notion of his own accomplishments compared to his sister’s. Renlin smiled wryly, nodding. “I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to hear it,” he said, trying to maintain a casual demeanor despite the tension in the room.

“I like you Renlin. You ask the right questions,”

Renlin shifted slightly in his seat, a hint of surprise crossing his features. “Thank you, sir. I try to stay curious, you know?” Internally, Renlin chuckled at the irony. Curious? Was he really? Most people probably thought he had rocks for brains. But there was a spark of interest in him, buried beneath layers of nonchalance and sarcasm. It was true that he often found himself pondering about the mysteries of the world, in his own unconventional way.

Renlin’s mind wandered to the mysteries that often filled his dreams. Strange, unsettling visions that he dared not share. They were his problem, haunting him in the dead of night and leaving him restless come morning.

Few knew of these nocturnal secrets, and Renlin preferred to keep it that way. The things he had seen, the horrors he had witnessed. Sometimes, he wished he could erase those memories, wipe the slate clean.

The speech, unplanned and spontaneous as it was, felt like a manifestation of those subconscious musings. Whatever the reason, Renlin couldn’t deny the nagging suspicion that his dreams held the key to unlocking some greater truth.

Renlin leaned back in his chair, getting comfortable as he contemplated Dean Adrian’s words. He crossed his legs casually and rested his hands behind his head, adopting a nonchalant posture despite the seriousness of the conversation.

Renlin mustered a grin, trying to inject a hint of humor into the tense atmosphere. “Well, you know me, always keeping things interesting. Can’t let the party get too dull, now can we?” He offered a playful wink, hoping to lighten the mood despite the gravity of the situation.

Renlin quirked an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Are we censoring what people can and can’t say now? Where’s our freedom of speech?” he quipped, adding a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

Renlin feels a bit apprehensive about saying too much around the dean, cautious not to reveal too many of his thoughts. However, he also maintains his trademark confidence, ensuring he doesn’t sell himself short. What’s the worst that could happen to him? He could disappear too. If that were to happen, he’s confident he has people who care enough about him to do something about it. But Renlin is just a guy who likes to talk, hopefully, this is what the dean knows him for as well.

Still he maintains an air of nonchalance, as if he’s not too concerned about the outcome of this conversation. It’s a subtle display of assurance, a silent assertion that he’s not intimidated by the dean’s authority.

“What’s it like being in power here? Ever think about who’ll take over after you? Aurora, I’m sure is a strong contender. Would she though? Do you have a favorite student you’d recommend? Just my opinion, but an Umbra member would be ideal.”

Renlin’s words spill out in a casual yet probing manner, his tone carrying a hint of mischief as he navigates the conversation with the dean. His questions, though bold, are delivered with a touch of irreverence, suggesting a certain audacity in challenging authority. As he speaks, Renlin’s body language remains relaxed but attentive, his posture signaling both confidence and a readiness to engage in further discourse.



Copy of Black Minimal Motivation Quote LinkedIn Banner (1)
Inessa couldn’t help but shake her head. How dumb could Renlin be? she thought to herself. She chuckled inwardly, knowing all too well the answer to that question. Despite her fondness for him, she couldn’t help but wonder how he managed to be the older sibling. Renlin had a knack for getting into situations, often leaving Inessa feeling like her eyes were going to pop out of her head from all the eyerolls she gave him. It was a dynamic they had perfected over the years.

Renlin had rarely needed to save her. She was calculated, methodical in her approach, while he was reckless, often diving headfirst into situations without much thought, clearly. She prided herself on her organization and planning skills, while he embraced chaos and spontaneity.

Inessa couldn’t help but see the contrast between them as a sort of yin and yang, complementary forces that, despite their differences, somehow balanced each other out. While their approaches to life may have been vastly different, there was an undeniable synergy between them that had endured throughout their lives.

Yes, Inessa couldn’t deny a sense of relief that someone else had saved Renlin this time. While she loved her brother dearly, constantly rescuing him from his own recklessness took its toll.

Inessa welcomed the change of pace, grateful that someone else had stepped in to take care of him for once. The opportunity to speak with an old friend. Arya’s words brought a smile to Inessa’s face, appreciating the compliment. Inessa couldn’t help but feel a sense of comfort in Arya’s presence.

“I’ve been navigating,” Inessa responded, her tone measured as she chose her words carefully. She maintained her usualness. Inessa was always determined to project an image of self-assurance.

It had been a while since Inessa had last had a conversation with Arya, personal reasons have kept them apart. However, in this moment, she made a conscious decision to set those reasons aside. Recognizing the value of their friendship and the opportunity for connection, Inessa chose to prioritize their bond over any lingering reservations.

Inessa couldn’t help but exhale a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding, a genuine smile tugging at her lips in response to Arya’s observation. With a nod of her head, she acknowledged the truth in Arya’s words.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Inessa replied with a chuckle, appreciating Arya’s ability to find humor in the situation. “But I suppose that’s just Renlin being Renlin.” Inessa’s response carried a hint of fondness, tempered with a touch of amusement at her brother’s antics.

“I think that’s why I love it here so much,” Inessa chimed in,a glint of appreciation in her eyes. Despite the occasional chaos and unpredictability, there was something undeniably captivating about the school, a vibrancy that kept her coming back for more. Inessa found comfort in the dynamic nature of their surroundings, relishing in the vibrancy of their shared experiences




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Freya had to just stand in bewilderment as this girl suggested alternative subjects. Could she not hear what she was saying to her? “I don’t…” Freya tried, but then gave up mid-sentence. She really wasn’t sure how else she could phrase it in a clear way. As this masked girl glanced up, Freya looked around, trying to find the nearest exit to plan how she could get to it. Though she didn’t have long enough, as the girl quickly met her gaze again, keeping Freya in this very dysfunctional conversation.

Before she knew it, the two of them had found an exit route and were standing outside. Although, the girl had tried to travel solo, which Freya would have let happen if she hadn’t hit her head in transit. Well now she definitely couldn’t be alone. So, alas, the two of them stood and this girl deemed herself unhelpful in Freya’s search for where she could walk her back. “You’re… cipher. Okay,” She repeated in wonder as to how that information can be utilised. Nothing. Nothing was coming to her here.

Her train of thought was interrupted by this girl as she asked for the nearby toilets. Freya had been mid-focus, and she instinctively went to say ‘Not now,’ until she looked up and realised the urgency of the situation. Instead, Freya wasn’t able to give any answer, and she had to think a little more on her feet. Which found her stepping forward to pull the girls curls away from her face as she leaned forward and let out clearly immense volume of alcohol she had been consuming.

When it seemed to be over, Freya stood back up again. Now they were back in the same predicament as before. Where to get her to. “So… do you need to- where could we…” Freya tried, talking around in circles. Getting her somewhere was more crucial considering she was injured. “I mean my room isn’t far from here,” She suggested, scratching the back of her neck slightly. Though she wasn’t sure why she was making it an open debate, considering this girl was in no place to make any input. “Come on, it’s this way,” Freya told her, making the decision, as there didn’t seem to be any other choice.

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@Kristi Thalia



Ballroom || with inessa

As Inessa’s words washed over Arya, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of ease settle within her. her eyes lingered on Inessa, noting the genuine smile that graced her friend’s lips in response to her words. The sight brought a sense of satisfaction to Arya, a subtle confirmation of the connection that still existed between them despite the passage of time and the reasons that had kept them apart, there was an unspoken understanding between them, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that had bound them together. After all, they remained friends for all these years for a reason, the bond is there.

“Navigating, huh?” Arya echoed, her tone carrying a hint of intrigue as she met Inessa’s measured response with a knowing nod. She understood all too well the complexities of navigating the intricacies of life at Ninth House, not to mention life in general, each twist and turn presenting its own set of challenges and opportunities.

Arya’s eyes twinkled with amusement as she nodded along with Inessa’s assessment of Renlin’s antics. “Renlin’s always been a wildcard,” she agreed with a grin, her voice laced with ever so slight remains of fondness barely left in her for her friend’s brother, despite his penchant for dramatics and… all the rest of it. “But I guess that’s part of his so-called charm.”

Despite the occasional chaos and unpredictability, Arya found herself nodding in agreement with Inessa’s sentiment about Ninth House. There was something undeniably captivating about the dynamic atmosphere of their surroundings, a vibrancy that kept her coming back for more, like a moth drawn to a flickering flame. Arya’s gaze swept across the ballroom, taking in the familiar faces and the whispered conversations that filled the air. Each interaction held the potential for intrigue, every corner hiding secrets waiting to be uncovered.

As she moved through the ever changing crowds, Arya’s steps were deliberate, her senses attuned to the subtle shifts in energy around her at all time. Arya remained acutely aware of the underlying sense of caution that permeated her every step.
“It is a place like no other,” Arya murmured, her voice carrying an air of intrugue laced with underlying resentment.
In a place where nothing could be trusted and everything held the potential for deception, with secrets lurking around every corner, Arya knew better than to let her guard down. It was a lesson she had learned the hard way, a reminder that in Ninth House, one must always be prepared for the unexpected, and nothing could be taken at face value.

You would all come to understand that at one point or another.

“Want to go check out the bar?” she suggested, taking her mind off everything and trying to simply enjoy the party




Upon hearing Ayla’s reassurance, Lyra nodded in acknowledgment but still harbored lingering doubts. She responded with a soft-spoken yet probing tone, expressing her worries while trying to understand Ayla’s perspective.

“It’s just… Ayla, I know you’re trying to reassure me that it’s nothing, but… with everything that’s happened… I can’t help but feel uneasy,” Lyra said, her voice tinged with a hint of apprehension. “I mean, after what happened… we can’t ignore the possibility that there might be something more going on. What if it’s connected to… to Lysander’s death? We still don’t know what really happened to him, and if there’s something dangerous going on here, we need to be careful.”

Her gaze lingered on Ayla’s face, searching for any sign that her cousin shares her concerns. Despite Ayla’s attempt to downplay the situation, Lyra’s remained vigilant and kept a watchful eye on their surroundings. “I just, I really hope you’re right that it’s nothing”

Upon feeling Ayla’s hand in hers and hearing her words of reassurance, Lyra’s nerves faded a bit, and she offered a faint smile, grateful for the connection and understanding. She found comfort in knowing that Ayla is there for her, even if they both struggle to articulate their emotions openly.

“Thank you, Ayla,” Lyra replied softly, her voice filled with genuine gratitude. “It means a lot to know you’re here for me. And I’ll be here for you too, always.” With a gentle squeeze of Ayla’s hand in return, Lyra conveyed her appreciation and solidarity, drawing strength from their shared bond amidst the uncertainties that lie ahead.

Lyra knew that her cousin sometimes struggled showing her emotions, so it meant a lot for her that Ayla had been able to confide in her that she felt the same way. “I’m glad I’m not the only one who feels that way sometimes, Ayla. It’s reassuring to know that we can be honest with each other about our struggles.” Lyra spoke softly, her voice gentle and supportive. “It means a lot to know that we’re not alone in feeling this way. We’ve both been through so much, and it’s okay to struggle sometimes.” She put a reassuring hand on her cousins shoulder.

A small smile painted her face as she continued talking, “I want to do something to honor his memory here at the school, something that celebrates the person he was and the love we still carry for him in our hearts. It won’t erase the pain, I know, but maybe it’ll give us a chance to come together, to share stories, to create something beautiful out of our memories.” Lyra’s idea was not merely fueled by a desire to celebrate her brother, no, especially since he had joined Ninth House, Lysander had gotten more distant. Maybe through the memorial, Lyra would get a chance to know who Lysander was in his years here, and who knows, maybe even get some insights in what lead to his death. “I’d love for you to come!” She said, her voice carrying a hint of happiness once again.

Lyra’s excitement bubbled up within her, fueled by the reassurance and support of her cousin that they were going to have an amazing time. The prospect of exploring the school, meeting new people, and delving into the mysteries of magic filled her with a renewed sense of purpose. “Absolutely!” she exclaimed, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. “I can’t wait to see what this school has to offer. Meeting new people, learning new magic - it’s all so thrilling!” Despite her caution relating her safety, Lyra’s eagerness to embrace the opportunities ahead shone through, her heart brimming with curiosity and determination to make the most of her time at Ninth House.

Lyra understood Ayla’s desire for a stronger drink, acknowledging the weight of their shared experiences and the need for some form of release. However, she also recognized the importance of moderation, especially considering the gravity of their prior conversation and the unfamiliar environment of the ballroom.

“Absolutely, Ayla,” Lyra chimed in with a gentle nod and a warm smile, her eyes radiating understanding and support. “I completely understand the temptation, especially with everything on our minds.” She gently reached out to place a reassuring hand on Ayla’s arm. “But hey, how about we start with something light, like a glass of wine? We can dip our toes in the fun and see where the night takes us!” Her tone was light and cheerful, infused with a hint of excitement. “And no matter what, I’ll be right here by your side, making sure we both stay safe and have a good time. Sound like a plan?” She finished with an encouraging grin, eager to make the evening as enjoyable and comforting as possible for her cousin.

Ayla - @Tina.G


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» Ballroom «

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"We still don’t know what really happened to him, and if there’s something dangerous going on here, we need to be careful.” Ayla’s plate was full, so she had never really dug into Lysanders case. It really was a mystery and Ayla wondered if Lyra ever looked into it, if she ever got somewhere with it. Ayla was honestly glad the conversation had headed this way, she could definitely come up with a more logical reassurance to Lyra’s fears. “Okay,” Ayla agreed. “That is a good point. We’ll be cautious. Cautious is helpful, Lyra. Not paranoid, though. Paranoid is just another word for distracted.” Ayla was worried it sounded more like a bad omen. A warning. So she continued on, “so anyway, it’s important to remember that we can’t control everything that happens around us, but we can control how we respond to it. Speculating about connections to missing students or any possible dangerous situations will only lead to unnecessary stress and anxiety. You aren’t looking for trouble and I hope you’re not subconsciously seeking it out either. The law of attraction is very real, Lyra. We’ll face our battles as they come.” Ayla tried her best at a sweet, small, and comforting smile.

Thank you, Ayla, … It means a lot to know you’re here for me. And I’ll be here for you too, always.” Always. It echoed in her brain. Ayla smiled, a rare expression of genuine warmth crossing her features. “We make a good team, Lyra. Remember, no matter what happens, I’ll always be here for you. We’ll navigate through this uncertainty together. Come out stronger on the other side.”

“I want to do something to honor his memory" Ayla felt her stomach clench, and she forced her face not to twitch a single muscle. She wished the mask hid the lower half of her face instead of the upper. She was not ready to face this right now and… "…I know, but maybe it’ll give us a chance to come together, to share stories, to create something beautiful out of our memories.” Ayla nodded along vigorously, appropriately, using Lyra’s wonder and awe to fill her. “I’d love for you to come!” Ayla knew not everything was about her. Ayla knew not everything revolved around Alexander. She also knew she was a hypocrite. “Yes!” It came out in a breath, and was apparently perceived as relief. She didn’t miss a beat. “Yes! I’m so glad you invited me, I didn’t want to impose by asking!” Yes yes, of course that was the only reason she sounded relieved. If she believed it, it could be true.

Ayla realized how not joking she was once Lyra responded. “But hey, how about we start with something light, like a glass of wine? We can dip our toes in the fun and see where the night takes us!” Ayla nodded along, a pleasant smile plastered on her lips. Yes, see where the night takes us. She thought. She also thought trails where made to veer off of. Cliche, rules were meant to be broken. “And no matter what, I’ll be right here by your side, making sure we both stay safe and have a good time. Sound like a plan?” Her grin was contagious. “Yeah, lets start there,” she pulling Lyra near the bar.

As Lyra and Ayla made their way to the bar, the atmosphere of the gothic but ethereal ball enveloped them in a sense of mystery and intrigue. The soft strains of haunting melodies floated through the air, blending with the murmurs of conversation and laughter that echoed around them. Ayla couldn’t help but be captivated by the beauty and darkness of their surroundings, the grandeur of the ballroom punctuated by the subtle hint of danger that lurked beneath the surface. It was a place where secrets whispered in the shadows and forbidden desires danced in the moonlight, a world that seemed both enchanting and unsettling in its allure. Maybe she could get used to drab.

As they reached the bar, Ayla’s eyes swept over the array of crystal glasses and shimmering bottles, each one holding the promise of a new adventure. The intoxicating aroma of rich red wines and exotic spirits mingled with the faint scent of incense, creating an intoxicating blend that teased the senses. Ayla turned to Lyra, her own smile mirroring the contagious grin on her cousin’s face. “Let’s start with a glass of wine and see where the night takes us,” she echoed, her voice laced with a touch of excitement. But then, all of the sudden, a thought occurred to Ayla. “Wait–you can drink, right? I could have sworn you just turned twenty.”

•]•·✦º✦·» ✦ «·✦º✦·•[•

@Jass ✦ Lyra



Dante listened intently to Celestine’s reflections on 60s fashion, finding her insights intriguing. As she spoke, he couldn’t help but be drawn in by her passion and depth of thought on the subject. “Ahh, infatuation with the 60s, you say?” Dante mused, a playful twinkle in his eyes. “I must admit, it’s not a decade that I’ve given much thought to, but hearing you talk about it makes me see its appeal in a new light.” There was something about the Swinging Sixties that in fact blended well with who Dante was, the outspokenness of the era, the way it pushed boundaries and had rebellion at its core. The freedom of individuality, so essential to the 60s, was Dante highly valued.

He nodded thoughtfully as she described the sense of timelessness embodied by the fashion of that era. “You’re right, timelessness is indeed a state of mind. And you, my dear, seem to embody that perfectly. Your dedication to your unique style, your meticulous routine - it’s all part of the charm,” Dante said with a playful smile.

He couldn’t help but smile at Celestine’s detailed description of her fashion routine. “Quite the elaborate process,” he chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “But hey, if it brings you joy and empowers you, who’s to say it’s too much? Besides, I’ve always believed that confidence is the most attractive accessory.”

Dante’s playful grin widened as he responded to Celestine’s suggestion with a raised eyebrow, his tone light and teasing. “Hmm, a plastic imitation, you say?” he repeated, feigning offense with a playful glint in his eye. “Well, I’ll have you know, that this trusty jacket happens to be genuine leather, thank you very much.” He ran his hand appreciatively over the supple material of his jacket, emphasizing its authenticity and he straightened up, adjusting the collar of his jacket with a touch of pride.

“But hey,” Dante continued, his grin turning mischievous, “I’m always open to a bit of style advice, especially if it comes gifted by a persuasive woman like yourself.” He leaned in slightly, as if sharing a secret, his tone conspiratorial. “Maybe I’ll consider your offer if you can promise me it won’t clash with my rugged charm.”

Dante’s initial reaction to her story of the man being in danger was a reaction of uncertainty, a flicker of doubt as he considered the possibility that Celestine’s story could be real. His mind raced with questions, contemplating the implications of her words and the potential consequences of the situation she described.

As he processes Celestine’s story however, Dante’s skepticism gradually gave way to a growing sense of amusement and understanding. He recognized the playful twinkle in her eye, the mischievous smirk that hints at her true intentions. A smile spread across Dante’s face as he realizes that Celestine is simply teasing him, weaving an elaborate tale for her own amusement. He might chuckle softly, shaking his head in amusement.

“Ah, Celestine, always one for a grand tale,” Dante replied with a grin, his tone infused with amusement. “But forgive me if I find your yarn a tad… embellished. Are you simply testing the limits of my gullibility?” His words carried a hint of skepticism, yet there was still a spark of curiosity in his eyes, a willingness to entertain the possibility that there might be a kernel of truth to Celestine’s narrative. “Nevertheless,” Dante continued, his voice taking on a more serious tone, “even if your story appears nothing more than a flight of fancy, it does raise an interesting question. How far are we willing to go to shape the world around us? And what are the consequences of meddling in affairs beyond our control?”

“You know what? Let’s entertain this for a moment,” he said, his voice adopting a tone of mock seriousness. “After all, where’s the fun in not exploring a good mystery, even if it’s just a figment of your imagination?” Dante playfully scanned the crowd, pretending to assess the situation as if it were genuine. “Alright, so we’ve got a potential emetic-laced drink and a dubious oil agreement,” he mulled aloud, his tone theatrical. “Sounds like the makings of a thrilling adventure, wouldn’t you say?”

“So, let’s consider our options,” Dante mused, his tone now more thoughtful. “If we’re going to play guardian angel, we need to be strategic. Direct intervention might be too risky, but subtle hints could be just the ticket.” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Perhaps we could discreetly switch the drinks, ensuring our unsuspecting friend avoids the emetic-laced concoction altogether. It’s a classic maneuver, but effective nonetheless.” Dante’s mind raced with possibilities as he considered Celestine’s scenario. “And maybe we could discreetly eavesdrop on conversations, gather snippets of information without revealing our intentions,” he proposes. “Or perhaps we could plant seeds of doubt, subtly steering the conversation towards topics that might reveal the truth.”

Listening to her continuously trying to get her right in their conversation regarding gold, and fool’s gold. Dante however, he was not one to turn down an opportunity to have the last word either. Leaning forward slightly, he fixed her with a probing gaze. “Yes, gold may leave an indent, but does it always hold its value? Isn’t it just as susceptible to tarnish and decay as fool’s gold, given the right circumstances?”

Dante’s tone was light, but there was a glint of defiance in his eyes. “And while I appreciate your call for striving for gold, let’s not discount the allure of the unconventional, the allure of the unexpected,” he countered. “Sometimes, it’s the fool’s gold that catches our eye, that sparks our curiosity.”

He paused for a moment, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Besides, who’s to say what truly defines ‘gold’ in this world?” he added cryptically, as if hinting at a deeper meaning behind their conversation. With that remark, Dante leaned back, leaving Celestine to ponder his words as the conversation continued to unfold.

“Ah, the intricacies of the mind likened to a garden,” Dante mused, his tone thoughtful as he reflected on their quite philosophical conversations. “It’s a captivating analogy indeed. But are we merely passive admirers in this garden of the mind, or are we the gardeners, shaping and molding its landscape?” Dante believed the latter was right, sure the environment was often quite set, but people had agency, a decision to nevertheless shape their own lives.

He leaned forward slightly, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. “You speak of admiration and serenity, yet what of the thorns hidden amidst the blooms? Are we to ignore the dangers lurking beneath the surface, the secrets waiting to ensnare the unsuspecting wanderer?” With this, Dante cryptically meant to communicate that life in general, one cannot merely try to see the positive, the good, there was no shortage of danger, of evil. He believed it was quite naive to think the way Celestine seemed to think.

Dante’s expression grew more earnest as he spoke. “And while it’s true that one may emerge from the garden unscathed by its secrets, can we truly resist the temptation to explore further?” he questioned. “Is it not our nature as curious beings to seek out knowledge and mystery, even if it means risking entanglement in the labyrinth of our own minds?” Dante knew from personal experience, especially in the context of such a fancy school as Ninth House, many people were intrigued, fascinated even, with trying to find out the mystery, the depth, no matter how risky that assignment was, at moments Dante was one of those people.

When Celestine called him out for being superficial once again, something in Dante snapped. “Ah, so we’re cutting through the pleasantries now, are we?” he remarked, a hint of irony lacing his words. “I must admit, your directness is rather refreshing. But let’s not pretend that appearances don’t matter, shall we? After all, you wouldn’t be adorned in such exquisite attire if you didn’t appreciate the attention it garners.” He looked her up and down, before landing on her eyes as he continued talking, “Or perhaps it’s all just a clever diversion, isn’t it? A shield to protect yourself from the discomfort of revealing your true self.” He knew this was quite a stab at her, who she was. Yet, Dante wouldn’t be saying it if he wasn’t truly convinced that Celestine was hiding something deeper by her extravagant appearance.

He leaned back casually, his gaze holding hers with unwavering intensity. “You’re a puzzle, Celestine, and I do enjoy a good challenge. But don’t dare mistake my playful banter for mere superficiality.”

“Arm candy, huh?” He repeated, his gaze playful yet challenging. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he continued, his voice low. “I wouldn’t dare confine you to such a role. You strike me as someone who prefers to be the main act, not just a side attraction.”

Dante’s tone shifted slightly as he addressed her mention of women’s rights, his expression growing more serious. “As for your concerns about women’s rights,” he said, his voice taking on a thoughtful edge, “well, let’s just say I’m more of a ‘live and let live’ kind of guy. But hey, if you want to fight the good fight, more power to you.” Maybe it came out more sarcastic than Dante had hoped for, however, yet, his last statement, he meant it. He found it quite admirable, those who stood up for matters that mattered, and this was something Celestine seemed quite passionate about.

After Celestine’s breakdown, and Dante trying to diffuse the tension, he now wanted to get through to her. He didn’t want her to feel in any way that he hadn’t enjoyed her company, cause he did, he enjoyed her company, possibly more so than he wanted to admit to himself. “Celestine, I appreciate your company more than you realize,” he began, his voice sincere. “Your wit, your intelligence, your unique perspective on things - those are just a few reasons why I enjoy spending time with you. You challenge me, you keep me on my toes, and you make me see things from a different angle. It’s refreshing.”

He paused, taking a moment to gather his thoughts before continuing. “As for my sense of humor, well, I’ll admit, I can be a bit… cavalier at times,” he admitted with a sheepish grin. “I don’t always stop to think about how my words might affect others. It’s something I’m working on, though. And I certainly didn’t mean to upset you.”

Dante’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as she mentioned slipping something in his drink, a mixture of amusement and intrigue crossing his features. “Is that so?” he replied, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “I must admit, I’m both impressed and slightly concerned by your resourcefulness.”

There was a glint of admiration in his eyes as he regarded her. “I wouldn’t doubt your ability to uncover secrets if you set your mind to it,” he conceded, a hint of respect in his tone. “But I’m relieved to hear that you prefer the long game. It’s much more…entertaining, wouldn’t you agree?”

When Dante heard she had misunderstood what he had meant, and once again brought up the fact he had named her before, he decided maybe the best thing to do was to directly address it. Dante’s smirk widened as he listened to Celestine’s response, realizing her interpretation of his words. “Ah, my dear, it seems there’s been a slight misunderstanding,” he began, his tone light yet earnest. “I wasn’t calling naming you bold. Quite the opposite, actually. I was referring to my own boldness in revealing myself.” Dante’s grin softened as he considered Celestine’s words. “I suppose I did jump the gun a bit when it comes to the naming, didn’t I? Sometimes I forget to play by all these rules.” With a shrug, he added, “Guess I’m just not one for sticking to conventions, you know?”

He let out a small chuckle as he went into his thoughts for a brief moment, feeling that no matter what, he would never do right in her eyes. It was quite ironic, wasn’t it? But part of him enjoyed them, the way she kept him on his toes, challenged him. offering her a small smile, “But hey, if my antics threw you off, I’ll do my best to make it up to you. Perhaps a dance to make amends? I heard I owe you one anyway” He said, referring back to how she had called him out for not having asked her to dance.

As they were waiting at the entrance gate, Dante noticed how Celestine seemed to be quite worried. “Ah, my dear Celestine, always sharp and curious,” he began, his gaze meeting hers. “You needn’t worry about being implicated in anything. As for ‘he,’ well, he’s a key player in our little escapade. A friend, you could say, though not in the traditional sense.”

He paused for a moment, enjoying the intrigue reflected in Celestine’s eyes. “But alas, all will be revealed in due time. For now, let’s just say our journey is about to become a tad more interesting. Trust me, you’ll want to see this.” After a mysterious smirk, he tapped his foot impatiently.

@cordyx - Celestine



When she looked back up to see the man before her, Desdemona realized how he had leaned in closer to her. Puzzled, she tilted her head, and smiled a bit, pleased. There was something quite lovely about him, but what was it? He had very beautiful eyes, and his hair looked soft to comb through, very handsome, and gentle. Like a friend. A friend. She spaced into his eyes as he spoke, becoming unaware of his dialogue and thanking her, but she was quickly brought back to reality when he turned back to the girl below them.

She didn’t think he noticed, but as soon as the boy turned away, her hands trembled, stressed from the strain of her magic, and her irises flashed to white.

In her mind, she saw flames; flames wavering through the air, their roots attached to light brown wood, organized neatly into rows; the exterior of a home. The whole house looked to be burning down from the outside, and Desdemona couldn’t see it; but she knew who was inside. Behind the estate, the lake glimmered with the reflection of the view, and even in the cerulean water, you could see shades of orange from the flames, scattered all over the edifice like on remains after an explosion. They were going to burn! She thought back to the building. Why, why?

“Wait…!” A loud voice awoke her, saving her from herself, and with a hard blink, her hazel eyes recovered their original state before he could turn back to see her. Looking around, the girl in the blue dress was gone, no longer in Desdemona’s line of vision.

The man sighed, frustrated as if he wanted to talk to her, but could not bring himself to chase her. She wondered why, and he asked her if she would be okay. Usually, Desdemona’s demeanor was confident and trusting almost to a fault, asserting that everything was going to be okay. But in the moment, just coming down from a vision, her energy was low, and she did not have it in her to be so optimistic.

“Yes, I think so…” Mona said. Truthfully though, if she had said a bit more, she would have told him that she has only had to regenerate animals before, so she does not know if she is fully capable of healing humans. But quickly, she was regaining her awareness, a smile appearing on her lips when he complimented her magic.

She beamed, “thank you!” and was going to elaborate, until the other person began to speak again, and she listened keenly. “You seem to care for her a lot,” she thought aloud. “Are you boyfriend and girlfriend?” The girl asked another question innocently, then a mischevious smile appeared on her lips, suggesting that she was intruiged to hear his answer. Although she had just held her, Mona’s worry about the navy-dressed girl seemed to fall away,

@idiot.exe Atlas sorry this took 1m years


Copy of Copy of Copy of Silas

𓆩⟡𓆪 𓆩⟡𓆪 𓆩⟡𓆪

Thalia was quite amazed at how easy she was embarrassing herself today. To be fair, she had too much to drink, way too much, so she should be patting herself in the back for not being much more worst, but at the same time, nobody had told her to drink all that she drank.

Self-control had never been Thalia’s strong suit. She remembered her mother often chiding her for being too “carefree,” contrasting her with Calista, who seemed to approach everything with careful consideration. Yet, her mother would also praise her for not being as impulsive as Kaelith.

Still, Thalia would not consider herself carefree really- especially considering that to be care free meant to be free from anxieties and responsibilities, and Thalia was definitely not free from all that description, and a lot of Thalia’s actions stemmed from her… right, where was she on again? As Thalia was saying, she was quite amazed at how easily it seemed it was for her to embarrass herself, considering that she was now leaning over a bush, with a girl- a girl whom Thalia had been caught taking pictures off, pulling her curls away from her face and Thalia let out all that she had consumed, the acid burning her throat as it came up. She felt utterly mortified, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment as she straightened up.

“So… do you need to- where could we…” Freya’s words stumbled in circles. If Thalia hadn’t been so intoxicated and engulfed in embarrassment, she would have noticed how effortlessly Freya tripped over her words in an endearing manner. Thalia might have found it cute and intriguing—the awkwardness in Freya’s speech. It was unexpected from someone like Freya, yet oddly fitting

“Um, yeah, sure,” Thalia muttered weakly, not fully understanding what she was agreeing too or if the question really needed her answer, all she knew is that Thalia was too follow the girl, and she did, strolling behind the girl with shaky steps.

They reached a room, and usually, when in a room, Thalia would have taken the time, to go over the room’s details, its structure and design- for after all if there was one thing Thalia loved except drinking and art, it was architecture, but one can’t really appreciate the beauty of architecture with a hazy mind, can they?

Thalia stood awkwardly, leaning against a wall, her head pounding with each beat of her heart. The alcohol was really hitting her now, and she felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She closed her eyes for a moment, as she slowly dropped to the ground in a squat like position, “H…Hey” Thalia began, her voice coming out in a weak murmur. She felt her face flush with embarrassment, unsure of what to say to Freya after everything that had just happened. “I just wanted to say… I’m sorry for all the trouble. I’m not usually like this, I swear.” She felt her face flush with embarrassment as she struggled to find the right words.

Thalia could guess that she was perhaps not being as convincing as she tried to be. “I mean, I don’t usually drink this much- well, most of the time I try to avoid it and hope I don’t fail, and I definitely don’t usually… well, you know,” she continued, gesturing vaguely to the mess she had made earlier. “I guess I just got carried away, and I am sorry for…” Thalia groaned, placing her head on her lap, then removing it, “Causing trouble,” She finished up.



Esther Ruth Dubois (2)


Wandering the vast halls, she was lost in an unfamiliar world, facing the consequences of her own making. Esther’s feet carried her forward, but blindly guided by instinct alone. Her mind searched for an escape, some peace, a respite from the adrenaline still pulsing through her veins. But despite her determination, she almost couldn’t bear another step. All she could do was stop just to catch her breath, to shake off the nerves. She found herself in an area lit dimly, like a shadow casted over it, but there was light ahead, a single room with a light on. Esther felt a sinking feeling in her gut, but she had no other choice, she was lost. And so, with hesitancy in her steps, she walked. But, as she grew near, just a couple doors away, a striking melody enveloped her ears. A faint piano harmony, paired with sorrowful singing. Esther quickly fixated her mask atop her nose, concealing her identity once again.

“So don’t blame me for being nocturnal
Don’t blame me for loving the truths that only come out at night.”

She stood right outside the door listening, apprehension hanging heavily in the air. “No”, she thought, “I must be -”, but her ears didn’t deceive her.

“They’re just like me
The things you don’t talk about.
They’re all I have”

Esther inched closer, peering one eye into the room, immediately noticing the flask and that his face was bare, but his features slightly hidden. As he drew a breath, he hit the keys, looking up at the ceiling for a second. Just long enough for a sliver of light to illuminate his face, revealing such a sight that caused her heart to drop into the pit of her stomach. “Vinnie?”

Realizing that she was in full view, she tried to turn and run, but he’d already seen her. “Are you looking for something?”. Her breath hitched, but she managed a smile. Clearing her throat, she locked eyes with him, her hand forming a tight fist behind her. Resentment, agony, despair, the mixture of feelings making her skin crawl, all her fears turning to rage. Esther let out an eerily calm sigh, “I’m afraid I’m lost, I don’t mean to intrude”. Putting on her best smile, she added, “Did you write that song yourself? You’ve got a deep passion in your voice”.


@raviola - Vincenzo PR - gn see y’all tm



Lyra listened intently to Ayla’s reassurances, feeling a sense of relief wash over her as her cousin spoke. Ayla’s logical approach to the situation grounded Lyra’s swirling thoughts, offering a beacon of optimism amidst the uncertainty.

“You’re right,” Lyra responded with a bright smile, her voice infused with newfound positivity. “Cautious, not paranoid. I like that.” Her gaze met Ayla’s with newfound determination, a spark of resilience igniting within her. “We can’t control everything around us, but we can control how we respond,” she continued, her tone growing more assured with each word. “And you’re absolutely right about not letting our fears take the reins. We’re stronger than that!” With a genuine smile, Lyra conveyed her gratitude and solidarity. “Thanks for always being the voice of reason, Ayla.”

“Thank you, Ayla,” Lyra replied to her cousin saying she would be there at the memorial, her voice gentle yet sincere. “I’m truly grateful you’re willing to be there. Honoring Lysander’s memory means a lot to me, and having you by my side will make it even more special.”

She offered a warm smile, sensing Ayla’s effort to mask her emotions. “It’s okay to feel a mix of emotions about this,” Lyra assured her, her tone soft and understanding. “I understand if this is difficult for you, with Alexander.” She then offered Ayla a supportive gaze, encouraging her to express her true emotions without fear of judgment. “If you’re not ready to dive into this right now, that’s completely okay,” Lyra continued, her voice gentle but firm. “Remember, your feelings matter just as much as mine!”

As they had moved to the bar, Lyra chuckled softly at Ayla’s question about her age, finding the situation somewhat amusing. She then offered a reassuring smile and shake of the head, “Don’t worry, Ayla,” she said, her tone light and reassuring. “I’m turning 21 in three days, so I’m all good. But time really does fly, doesn’t it?” she commented with a chuckle.

As they stood at the bar, surrounded by the enchanting atmosphere of the ballroom, Lyra’s curiosity and sense of adventure were piqued. She glanced at the array of drinks before them, her mind buzzing with anticipation for the night ahead. “So, any preferences on the wine?” she asked Ayla, her tone cheerful and inviting.

Ayla - @Tina.G


{ Monday, September 4, 2023 }

After the masquerade ball, Ninth House transitions into a new day filled with possibilities. As students wake up to the gentle sunlight filtering through their dorm room windows, they find themselves with a first uni day ahead.

{ Schedule }

Breakfast: 7:30 - 9:00 am

Morning Classes: 9:30 am - 1:00 pm

  • Enchanted Music Composition: 9:30 am - 11:00 am (Enigma Stag and Cipher)
  • Unconventional Psychology: 9:30 am - 11:00 am (Quantum and Umbra Coven)
  • Astral Projection and Dreamwalking: 11:30 am - 1:00 pm (Quantum and Enigma Stag)
  • Dark Arts Aesthetics: 11:30 am - 1:00 pm (Cipher and Umbra Coven)

Lunch: 1:30 pm - 2:30 pm

Afternoon Classes: 3:30 pm - 6:00 pm

  • Core Class - Elemental Alchemy: 3:30 pm - 4:45 pm
  • Core Class - Classic Literature Revival: 5:00 pm - 6:00 pm

Evening Bonfire Gathering: 8:00 pm - 10:00 pm


Breakfast is served from 7:30 to 9:00 am in the dormitory building. After that, students cross the bridge to the main building where all their classes take place. The day begins with a diverse array of courses tailored to each school group’s unique interests and magical specialties:

  1. Enchanted Music Composition: From 9:30 to 11:00 am, students immerse themselves in the enchanting melodies and mystical harmonies of this collaborative class, where the Enigma Stag and Cipher groups come together.
  2. Unconventional Psychology: From 9:30 to 11:00 am, Quantum and Umbra Coven students delve into the depths of the human mind, exploring unconventional therapeutic methods and the exploration of altered states of consciousness.
  3. Astral Projection and Dreamwalking: Following a brief interlude, from 11:30 am to 1:00 pm, Quantum and Enigma Stag students embark on a journey beyond the confines of the physical realm, navigating the enigmatic landscapes of the ethereal realms through astral projection and dreamwalking.
  4. Dark Arts Aesthetics: Simultaneously, Cipher and Umbra Coven students explore the allure of shadows and mysteries from 11:30 am to 1:00 pm, delving into the aesthetic appeal of the darker aspects of art and creating works that capture the essence of the enigmatic.

Afternoon Activities:

After a well-deserved lunch break from 1:30 to 2:30 pm, students go back for their afternoon classes, which extend from 3:30 pm to 6:00 pm:

  1. Core Class - Elemental Alchemy: From 3:30 to 4:45 pm, students engage in alchemical experiments, studying transmutations under the guidance of an alchemist professor.
  2. Core Class - Classic Literature Revival: Concluding the day’s academic pursuits from 5:00 to 6:00 pm, students gather to revisit classical literature, exploring timeless works from various cultures and historical periods, and engaging in discussions on enduring themes and literary techniques.

Evening Social Gathering:

As the day draws to a close, students gather around the flickering flames of an evening bonfire from 8:00 to 10:00 pm, happening every Monday. At this time students can also use the kitchen to prepare dinner for themselves. All of these after class activities are not mandatory.




Copy of Copy of Copy of Silas

[𓆩⟡𓆪 𓆩⟡𓆪 𓆩⟡𓆪]

Thalia’s awakening wasn’t greeted by the soft hues of dawn or the chirping of birds; instead, it was a reluctant emergence from the clutches of sleep into a realm shrouded in discomfort and remorse. Her mind felt ensnared in a vice grip of pain, and the mere notion of opening her eyes seemed to trigger a visceral recoil. The taste lingering in her mouth resembled a concoction brewed from the depths of despair—a bitter blend of spirits and regret.

Summoning every ounce of willpower she possessed, Thalia forced herself to sit up in bed, groaning as her head throbbed in protest. With a deep sigh, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and reluctantly stood up, feeling as though she were walking through a foggy haze.

Dragging herself to the bathroom, Thalia winced as the harsh light assaulted her senses. She squinted against the brightness, her head pounding with each step. Leaning heavily against the sink, she turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on her face, hoping to wash away some of the lingering effects of the night before and with a sigh she had entered the shower.

As the water cascaded over her skin, Thalia closed her eyes and let out a long, shaky breath. The cool sensation provided a momentary respite from the throbbing ache in her head, offering a fleeting sense of clarity amidst the chaos.

“Stupid, Stupid,” Thalia repeated out loud as she washed her hair, her hands massaging her scalp. She was indeed quite stupid, for many reasons, one for taking early morning classes knowing she had a terrible habit, and two for having that terrible habit.

That terrible habit, either led to events that Thalia found herself amused by or events that Thalia preferred not to think about the morning after, and yesterday’s problem was definitely the later.

Finishing her shower, Thalia stepped out of the steam-filled bathroom and wrapped herself in a plush towel and brushed her teeth, when she was done she entered her room and could not help but to feel a sense of happiness that her room was her’s and her’s alone- no pounding noise and enough space to do what she wanted, just how the Lord had intended.

She smiled, dressing herself in a white turtleneck blue jeans, and a brown jacket, her pendant on top of her shirt. As Thalia checked the time on her phone, she noted that there was still some time to roam the building before her classes began. However, she realized that she didn’t have as much time as usual due to oversleeping . Hastily grabbing her birding backpack, Thalia ventured out into the hallway.

The dull ache in her head persisted as she wandered through the corridors, her footsteps echoing in the empty halls. Thoughts of whether she should eat something before class crossed her mind, a dilemma she faced every morning. Thalia wasn’t one to typically eat breakfast, finding it to be a “waste of time” that often left her feeling uncomfortable. However, she had heard that eating something could alleviate a hangover, and the idea seemed appealing given her current state.

But alcohol was also appealing back then and breakfast is a waste of time, so perhaps not. “Des?” Thalia said to herself, as she saw a figure standing in a corner, her flowing black hair, striking figure along with her almond-shaped eyes that were a deep shade of brown, framed by thick, dark lashes that accentuated their intensity made it obvious it was Desdemona.

The corners of her lips tugged at each other into a smile, and Thalia was ready to approach-she would have, if not for the hesitation that had possessed her like a ghost.

Her morning strolls were usually times of solitude, times where Her morning strolls were usually times of solitude, times where Thalia could lose herself in the quiet rhythm of her footsteps and the gentle hum of her thoughts. They were moments of introspection and inspiration, where she could find inspiration, take notes of her surroundings by taking pictures, and tucking them to analyze them for later. It was also the fact that it was way too early in the morning for a conversation, and Thalia could still feel a slight pounding in her head that made the spirit of hesitation able to possess her.

So giving all of this, did Thalia really want to converse this early in the morning with the lingering taste that existed? no, that was the answer, no. For she shall see Desdemona later, and they shall have time to converse later, when Thalia’s minds was clear and she had gotten the pictures she needed.

Thalia was about to turn around, turn around and walk the other way, as if she had not seen Desdemona, but she could not do that as their eyes met, a flicker of recognition passing between them, prompting a hesitant smile to grace Thalia’s lips.

“Hey,” Thalia began as she approached Desdemona, spreading her arms for a hug. “How are you?” She questioned, closing the distance between them. Despite her reservations, there was a small part of Thalia that welcomed the distraction, if only momentarily, from her own thoughts and the relentless pounding in her skull. “You look well rested!” Thalia wished she could say the same about herself.

[𓆩⟡𓆪 𓆩⟡𓆪 𓆩⟡𓆪]


[𓆩⟡𓆪 𓆩⟡𓆪 𓆩⟡𓆪]



Last night marked a promising start, largely due to the somewhat unexpected encounter with her cousin, Ayla. However, the aftermath of two glasses of wine left Lyra feeling slightly hungover as she prepared for the first day of classes. Despite this, she was determined to exude confidence and charm, so after a refreshing shower, she choose one of her favorite green overalls paired with a delicate mesh shirt adorned with white embroidered flowers. Her hair, styled in two simple braids, framed her face elegantly. As she assessed her reflection in the mirror, a sense of contentment washing over her.

As she walked to her class she spotted Esther, her childhood friend. A warm smile spread across Lyra’s face as she made her way over to greet her. Esther’s presence brought a sense of comfort and familiarity. “Esther!” she exclaimed in excitement as she pulled Esther into a tight hug, she hadn’t seen her friend in a little bit. “I’ve missed you!”

However, her excited mood shifted, as she caught sight of another familiar face, one that stirred mixed emotions within her. Determined to confide in Esther, Lyra gently guided her friend towards the nearest restroom, seeking a moment of privacy to share her thoughts and feelings.

Once inside the restroom, Lyra leaned against the sink, her expression serious yet tinged with a hint of uncertainty. “Esther, there’s something I need to tell you,” she began, her voice soft but determined. She wasn’t quite sure how to bring this up, but she knew she needed to confide in her friend.

Esther - @Mouschi
Ayla - @Tina.G
Vincenzo - @raviola :eyes:


Copy of Black Minimal Motivation Quote LinkedIn Banner (1)

As the morning sun filtered through the curtains, Inessa stirred awake, feeling refreshed and invigorated. The remnants of the previous night’s festivities lingered in her memory, but she was eager to embrace the new day ahead. With a sense of anticipation, she embraced the familiarity of her routine, relishing in the comfort of being back in this space.

Inessa savored the comfort of her room at school, where light blue walls were accentuated by touches of pink, creating a serene and inviting atmosphere. The large window seat bathed in sunlight. And then, there were her plants—green, vibrant, and thriving, infusing the space with life and vitality. While she cherished her room at home, there was something uniquely special about this space—it felt truly her own, a sanctuary where she could retreat and be herself.

As Inessa rolled over in her bed, her gaze drifted towards the window, a small smile playing on her lips. She enjoyed the challenges and rewards that came with academic success, the satisfaction of striving for excellence.

Inessa moved softly across the old hardwood floors, mindful of the creaks that echoed. Each step was deliberate, a delicate dance to avoid disturbing her neighbors below. The worn planks beneath her feet told stories of years gone by, their aged surface bearing the marks of countless footsteps and memories. Despite their age, there was a certain charm to the floorboards, a sense of history and character that added to the timeless appeal of her surroundings. Inessa moved with a gentle grace.

Inessa’s fingers moved with practiced ease as she prepared her morning tea, measuring out the dried leaves and depositing them into the waiting cup. With each motion, she infused the air with the soothing aroma of her favorite blend, the familiar scent enveloping her in a comforting embrace. As she poured the hot water, she watched as the leaves unfurled and danced in the steaming liquid, releasing their essence with every swirl. It was a ritual she cherished—a moment of quiet contemplation and mindfulness to start her day on a peaceful note.

With her tea securely capped in a reusable cup, Inessa made her way into the bathroom to prepare for the day ahead. She moved through her morning routine with efficiency and purpose, savoring the simple pleasures of self-care and preparation.

As Inessa made her way down the hallway, her steps were purposeful and confident, a sense of determination radiating from her every movement.

With a cup of freshly refilled tea in one hand and a bag of books, papers, and pens slung over her shoulder. She glanced down briefly, admiring the neat bunny ear bows of her perfectly tied shoes and the way her socks hugged her ankles. Her legs, toned and tanned from days spent outdoors, peeked out from beneath the hem of her short sundress, the vibrant yellow fabric a cheerful contrast to the muted tones of the hallway. Despite being indoors, Inessa carried with her the warmth and brightness of the sun.

While she cherished the brightness and warmth of the outdoors, there was something undeniably exhilarating about the shadowy corridors of the school. It was a place of intrigue. Despite its somber atmosphere, Inessa found solace and comfort in the familiarity of these halls.

A subtle shift in her demeanor hinted at the different side she kept hidden. She had found herself increasingly drawn to the darker, more enigmatic aspects of the school environme.

As Inessa rounded the corner, her gaze lifted, and she caught sight of him standing just a few feet away. Memories flooded her mind as she took a sip of her tea. It had been years since they first met in this very spot, their shared love for the library forging a bond. Together, they had spent countless hours within those book stacks, losing themselves in the pages of books and the depths of conversation. Days blurred into nights as they delved into the realms of literature, their connection deepening with each moment.

As she observed him from afar, she couldn’t help but notice a subtle change in his appearance. His dark hair, familiar, framed his face. But there was something different about him now—had he grown out his facial hair over the summer? It was a small detail, yet it added a rugged charm to his features, lending him an air of maturity.

With a slight tightening of her grip on the strap of her bag, Inessa approached him, her steps steady but tinged with a hint of nervous anticipation.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Inessa said, her tone laced with a hint of mystery as she studied him. Was he excited to see her?

Her mind buzzed with questions. What had he done over the summer? Why had he decided to come back? He hadn’t said anything to her. It left her wondering, searching for answers in the depths of his gaze.

Inessa couldn’t help but tease him lightly as she observed their surroundings. “Not surprised this is where you decided to go on our first day back,” she remarked with a playful grin. Despite her own presence in the library, she found amusement in the familiarity of their shared choice to return to this familiar setting.

“It seems like we’ve both fallen back into our routines,” Inessa remarked, a note of nostalgia in her voice. ”Some things never change, huh?"
@astxrism cutie boy Hayes



Renlins evening unfolded like a rollercoaster ride, full of unexpected twists and turns. Despite the turbulence, he managed to find moments of enjoyment amidst the chaos. Perhaps it was the adrenaline rush from his encounter with his new friend Mr. Adrian, the lingering effects of alcohol, or simply sheer exhaustion, but he somehow let himself drift off to sleep (and actually sleep peacefully) for a few precious hours. Surprisingly, when he woke up the next morning, he found himself with only minimal signs of fatigue under his eyes. It was a small victory in the aftermath of a tumultuous night.

Despite managing to catch a few hours of sleep, Renlin still found himself in need of a strong cup of coffee to kickstart his day. The demands of the day ahead left him craving the caffeine boost to fuel him.

As Renlin reached for his trusty mug, he couldn’t help but notice the faint brown stains on its interior. Despite his efforts to rinse it out after each use, the stubborn marks seemed to have settled in over time, a testament to the countless cups of coffee that had fueled his late nights and early mornings. With a nonchalant shrug, he decided it added character to his faithful companion.

With a wry smile, Renlin glanced around his room, taking in the scattered papers, discarded clothing, and general disarray that seemed to define his living space. Compared to the chaos that surrounded him, the stained mug suddenly seemed like a beacon of cleanliness and order. He chuckled to himself, acknowledging the irony of the situation as he reached for the coffee maker, determined to start his day off on the right foot despite the clutter that surrounded him.

As the coffee brewed in the background, filling the air with its rich aroma. He watched the coffee drip slowly, almost meditatively. Pulled out of his trance by the sudden realization that he needed to get dressed, Renlin turned sharply on his heel and made his way to the dresser.

Grabbing a pair of navy shorts from the dresser, Renlin’s eyes fell upon a white graphic tee lying on the floor. He eyed the tee skeptically, contemplating whether it had passed the smell test. He wasn’t one to fuss over details, especially when it came to his wardrobe. With a casual shrug, he decided to trust his instincts and slipped the tee over his head. As he tugged on his navy shorts, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something, but he brushed it aside.

With his outfit sorted, Renlin headed back to the coffee maker, where the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air. He poured himself a steaming cup, savoring the warmth that spread through his body as he took the first sip.

Black coffee was Renlin’s go-to. Sure, he wouldn’t turn down a caramel macchiato with whipped cream on top every now and then, but there was something about the simplicity of black coffee that appealed to him. It was strong and bold. Plus, no matter how strong he brewed it, it never seemed strong enough to fully satisfy his caffeine cravings.

He slid a pen into the pocket of his pants as he walked past a disorganized pile of supplies just on the floor at the foot of his bed. His hand reached for a jacket—an eye-catching combination of orange, black, and yes, cheetah print. With a nonchalant air, he shrugged into the jacket and headed out of the room, the door swinging shut behind him but not latching fully. He paid it no mind as he made his way down the hallway. Coffee in hand, he set out to start his day.


The lair of his brothers, and Amani, held a special place in Renlin’s heart. It wasn’t just a room; it was a sanctuary where laughter echoed and bonds were forged. Within its walls, secrets were shared, plans were hatched, and friendships flourished. It was a sacred space reserved exclusively for members of Umbra.

Renlin’s thoughts drifted to the members who had come before him, the ones whose stories he knew and those who remained a mystery. Each member had left their mark on Umbra, contributing to its legacy in their own unique way.

As Ren stepped into the dimly lit room, a shiver of anticipation ran down his spine. Despite its somewhat eerie atmosphere, he found comfort in the flickering flames of the fire, casting dancing shadows on the walls. There were no windows in this room, but somehow, that only added to its mystique.

Renlin’s smile widened into a toothy grin as he took in the familiar faces of his fellow Umbra members already gathered in the room. They were more than just friends; they were his brothers in arms, bound by a shared sense of purpose and loyalty. He felt a deep connection with them, a bond that went beyond mere friendship.

His eyes scanned the room, and he spotted Vinnie already taking charge as part of the initiation team for the new members.

Ah, initiation into Umbra. Renlin vividly recalled his freshman year, when the older members had orchestrated a unique challenge for him and a select few in his class: a race filled with obstacles and hidden challenges. While he could share the basic premise with outsiders, the details remained a closely guarded secret known only to members of Umbra.

He raised his mug in a silent toast to a few of the Umbra coven members lounging on the couch. Then, with a playful grin, he called out to his friend, Vinnie, across the room, “Take it easy, Vin!”

It wasn’t wrong to say that Renlin felt almost like a king in this room. He was friends with everyone here, his name known to all, and he was generally one of the most liked members. He relished in this feeling, enjoying how others came to him for things. It was a stark contrast to when he was new, looking up to these types of guys, and now finding himself among them.

Not the leader type, he would leave that role to his friend. But he saw himself more as a big brother to all, offering guidance (not always the best!) and support whenever needed.

Renlin settled into his seat at the table, he was pulled into the conversation by the members discussing their night. He felt a sense of camaraderie among them, a shared bond forged through their experiences within Umbra. As they delved into questions about his speech and whether he was in trouble, Renlin’s mind wandered, reflecting on the events of the previous night.

He couldn’t help but feel a tinge of pride at having stirred up some intrigue, even if it had landed him in the dean’s office. Yet, amidst the chatter and curiosity of his fellow members, a separate conversation caught his attention. It seemed to hold a certain weight, a whisper of secrecy that intrigued him further, drawing him into its orbit.

Renlin leaned in the direction of the intriguing conversation, resting his elbow on the table as he set down his mug with a bit more force than intended. He caught a glance from a member seated across from him, but his focus remained fixed on the discussion unfolding before him.

“Do you think the Dumans are actually going to talk to each other this year?” one member asked, prompting a thoughtful pause from the others.“It was weird last year’s sleepover, they didn’t even acknowledge each other,” another chimed in.“Dude, absolutely not. They hate each other. Their families are like archenemies or something. They couldn’t care less that they’re cousins,” a third member added with a shake of their head. “Wasn’t Tae’s brother in Umbra too?” a member asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

Renlin chuckled at this remark, making it evident he had been eavesdropping on the conversation. “Half-brother,” he stated matter-of-factly, adding his own insight to the discussion.

@raviola vin
@Caticorn tae


Copy of Copy of Silas (1)


With skin the color of acorns and hair dark brown, the woman stood in a room. Her face appeared blurry, yet Amani sensed a frightened expression. The woman took a step back, raising her hand defensively. “Stop!” she cried out, her voice tinged with fear and anger. “The answer is no, I shall not—” But then the voice wavered, the scene flickering as the woman fell to her knees and everything faded to black.

It was a strange dream, a repetition of a particular scene that Amani couldn’t quite grasp. There were many aspects of the dream that puzzled her: What triggered it? Why was it recurring? When Amani was younger, she often experienced cryptic dreams like this one—scenes that made no sense, featuring a woman whose face remained obscured. It was as if she didn’t want to be seen or someone didn’t want her to be seen.

As Amani grew older, these dreams ceased, and she nearly forgot about them. But now they had returned unexpectedly. Strange as it was, at least it diverted her thoughts from the events of last night. No, Amani decided, she would not dwell on that. Last night didn’t happen; it didn’t exist. She had washed it from her skin and cleared it from her mind. She stood up, arranging her bed like she always did, doing her usual morning 15 minutes yoga session and stretches, before she headed towards the showers, the dream and all of yesterday replaying in her mind. “Fcking Vincenzo,” Amani muttered as the water fell on her skin, she placed her hands on her forehead, rubbing her temples. She hoped his morning was miserable

Coming out from the bathroom, Amani had dressed herself, a white shirt, covered by an emerald sweater- because of course Amani had to have green in her outfit, it was not really Amani if she did not have one item that was green on her body. She put on transparent tights accompanied by a short skirt and a black jacket-a jacket which once belonged to her elder sister, Marium Zalia Monet, and was giving to Amani as a gift- well, it was more like Amani took it, and her sister let her, but that was practically the same thing.

As Amani walked from the dorms to the school, she decided to call her mother. With her tote bag slung over her shoulder, books packed inside, she dialed her mother’s number, remembering she had not called them since she came back to Ninth house

“Hey, Mom,” Amani greeted warmly as her mother answered the call. They exchanged pleasantries, chatting about their plans for the day and catching up on the latest news. Amani smiled as she listened to her mother’s voice, “Love you too,” Amani ended the call with a kiss , slipping her phone inside her bag as they neared the school. Entering the school’s lunchroom, Amani ordered her usual breakfast—avocado toast and a caramel latte. She found a quiet corner to sit and study, pulling out her books from her tote bag and preparing to dive into her studies.

Like always, Amani was going to read a page ahead than the rest of her schoolmates, to make sure that she was always the top of her class, and she was always ahead- academic validation was truly the only validation Amani needed, none of that nonsense than he had talked about, thinking she was still the same as before.

Amani flipped the book to page 145, about to write down some things, when she decided to look up, her eyes widening in surprise. There, walking by, was someone she hadn’t seen in a long time, a childhood ‘friend’, well former, the term friend was used quite loosely. A smirk tugged at the corners of her lips as she watched the familiar figure pass by. She wondered what they had been up to and whether they had changed at all since the last time she saw them, “Arya Sellonova,” Amani greeted, closing her book, a flicker of amusement dancing in her eyes. “You truly do look better without Gardens trailing behind you,” Gardens was one of the many nicknames Amani had coined for Inessa Dunman, cousin to Tae Dunman- who Amani would say was her favorite alive Dunman-, and sister to Renlin Dunman, whom Amani also disliked, but sadly the Dunmans were friends with her family, they were family friends, Amani had been forced to grow up with and see everyday, at least that gave birth to a lot of wonderful nicknames for Inessa, whom as from what Amani recalls was still friends with Ayra. There was bulges, bulgy eyes, l och ness monster(that one had been made when she was 11, a play on her name),

Amani eyes scanned Ayra’s, taking in her outfit “A suit?” Amani asked raising a brow, "Fancy today, anything special occurring? " Amani was going to end it with something crude, a comment regarding another person, but she decided to hold her tongue for now.

@CerealKiller -Ayra S.


@Madilnel -rennessa

@raviola - vin

@Caticorn - Tae