The walk back was eerily quiet. Fionera was always used to there being noise somewhere, either of students mingling or various sounds from experimental magic. There were still students around but nowhere near as many as there usually were.

Where did they all go? Was her year graduating so important that even the underclassmen got involved? Well, if she takes into account that the son of the Dean was among the graduates, and also the son of a well known Duke from the East facing kingdom; daughter of an imperial family from the West, and the third prince of the Yulté kingdom which boasted the continent's strongest military in the North… then maybe all the fuss was completely founded.

If Fionera were a little more social, a little more ambitious, perhaps she too would mingle with them and form a connection before they officially left the academy. As it stands, she wasn't.

Arriving at the dorms, Fionera stared up at the building in surprising melancholy. She had mixed feelings about the Academy in general, but somehow facing the dorms she's hit with the realization that she won't be here for much longer.

She opened the double doors with a grandeur she was usually lacking in. The communal space was as big as ever. Couches lie about to make it welcoming to tired students; rich, thick rugs beneath wooden coffee tables. Fionera slowly trailed past all of this and made to climb up the stairs built along the wall.

It wasn't a particularly long trip, being one she made every day made it so that it became routine more than anything; but her room was still on the third floor. The entire building was females-only, specifically those in the same year. Finally arriving in front of her door, Fionera dug around in her trouser pocket for the key. After unlocking the door, she stepped into the room, almost feeling as if she were seeing it for the first time.

It wasn't too big nor too small. There was room enough for perhaps a king size bed, but the faculty only permitted a small double to be the biggest size. Fionera's bed was that same size, snug in the right hand corner of the room with its headboard against the same wall as the window and a modest side table next to it.

A desk sat to her left. Wardrobe snug on the wall adjacent to the door. She'd hit the sides of it multiple times when she'd come in, but she still didn't bother to move it.

The wardrobe itself was plain, and Fionera had already emptied it of all clothing. Above her desk were still pinned pieces of paper with scribbles of various prototypes that she hadn't bothered to take down yet.

Fionera was constantly creating ways to incorporate magic into the lives of those who couldn't use it or didn't have access to it if they could. She had an unending stream of ideas that was all thanks to her.. let's say 'unfair advantage' that let her easier understand the intricacies of magic and what made it work the way it did.

With that same logic, she should've been at the top of her class, right?

Wrong.

Perhaps it was because she was too intuitive, but Fionera found it hard to follow Mr Harrison's teachings when her way just worked so much better. Sure, it was a little bit arrogant—or ignorant even—of her to brush off the expertise of a well-studied person, but she just.. she couldn't ignore the way her blood sings whenever the magic responded so beautifully to her own ministrations.

She sighs.

Fionera closes the door and steps into the room. Striding forward towards her bed she flops onto the mattress, carelessly wrinkling the sheets in the process.

She flung her boots off, shifting her legs so they were less flopping off the side, but she suddenly let out a quiet, unnecessary ow when the heel of her foot knocked into something. She instinctively pulled her leg back and sat up to see what the obstruction was.

.. right. Fionera eyed her trunk that lay at the foot of her bed. She'd kind of forgotten that it was already packed. The academy had given them a few days to get their things together before they had to officially move out of the student dorms, and she wasn't usually this organised, but her desire to leave overrode her tendency to procrastinate.

She didn't have much belongings outside of what was given to her upon admittance to the Academy, anyways. A lamp made with hand blown glass that her parents had given her long ago was her most prized possession, her various journals coming in at a close second.

To anyone else, the content of her journals would probably seem like a bunch of gibberish. Written in an old tongue that remained popular in her village but not close inland where the Academy was situated, nor either of the Kingdoms that neighbored its north and east geographical points.

Fionera doesn't know how much time passes, and she isn't quite sure how she spends it. But when the moon light starts shining in through her window and illuminating the sudden darkness; she curses under her breath.

Alicia had said the party started at 9pm, but the position of the moon suggested it was well past 10!

Shit!

She didn't doubt that it would continue deep into the night and only end during the early hours of the morning, but she still wanted to attend when people were still relatively sober! Fionera quickly rolls over to swipe a hand to illuminate her lamp before jumping up off her bed as if there was a fire licking at her heels. She threw open the lid of her trunk, grabbed whatever was on top, and got changed in record time.

Usually she would put a bit more effort into her appearance, care a little more about coordinating her clothes so they were somewhat fashionable. But drastic times called for drastic measures.

The shirt she'd picked up was lightly coloured and had way too many ruffles in awkward places. It was clean at least, so Fionera takes that as a win. The pants she snagged are probably the same pair she'd been meaning to chuck out for the past month and a bit. She'd ripped the bottom and had to DIY it and create a new hem, but they just ended up awkwardly swinging at her ankles instead.

She threw her shoes back on and not long later found herself standing in front of her desk looking at a little dish that held her minimal jewellery.

Should she put some on? Yeah. It would jazz up the outfit a bit and maybe take people's attention off of how the clothes don't quite fit her right.

Perhaps it was because she was so distracted that she didn't even hear the sound of her window opening behind her.

"Hey." Fionera startles and turns around with wide eyes. A quick, peripheral check at the ward shoddily plastered in the corner of the window pane shows that, no, it hasn't been broken. But then again, when she'd first carved it, the stone chisel wasn't exactly made out of the most desirable of materials. Granite and Fae-quartz are cheap and easily obtained — which basically means that Fionera is a very poor woman who sacrificed quality for affordability.

The fact that she cut corners for said ward probably made it not work half the time so she really shouldn't be so surprised at her guest.

This analysis or hers takes her all of three seconds before she grabs the letter opener on her desk and throws it with startling precision towards their exposed throat. They dodge it with finesse rarely seen and Fionera is mildly impressed at the display. Still. The letter knife was an experiment of hers so although they managed to dodge in time to avoid it hitting a major artery — the impromptu weapon still managed to graze the skin there.

The intruder lets out a surprised shout, but Fionera has already plucked the combat knife hidden in a slit in her boots. They were the same boots she wore with her uniform, and sure, the weapon was kind of against the rules — but Fionera had never gotten caught with it so she never bothered to take it off. Now though, as she holds it against this person's neck — she's glad that she always kept it on her person.

Their hands are left entirely free, but no one in such a vulnerable position would try anything risqué, right? Fionera suddenly hunches over as they jab at her side. It gives them room to step away from her and grab her wrist holding the knife.

..Ok, maybe she was wrong.

Shit.