Abel Bouvier is not a great man.He’s not a kind man, either.
Some might even call him terse. Rude. Generally unpleasant.I know. I know he has a bad reputation.He always has.
But you have to hand it to him.
He sure did send a lot of children to their deaths.—Virgil Clay, Interview
The Chromatic Academy was colorful, to say the least. In concept, this was not particularly surprising to Violet. No more than finding fish in a can of sardines. Even so, and perhaps not unlike a first encounter with canned fish, the expectation could not fully guard her from surprise. Such was the intensity of color at the academy. In every sense, really, from the crystal on the walls, to the glowing tubes carrying clarity through the building, and to the people themselves as they hurried from place to place.
Kiera had stopped using her illusion talent on her ears and tail. Too many people in the building either had similar manifestations of their talents, or perception high enough that the effort simply wasn’t worth it. It was a place filled with the most unique and aggressive callings west of the Rockies.
Violet had been given little opportunity to fully observe the Academy grounds on her way in. She’d had little opportunity for much, actually, once the train had left that station where so many travelers had died. When Alex went missing, the conductors had, contrary to her expectations, rushed to leave. They’d allowed some time for the students to search for their missing friend, of course. But—despite Violet’s demands—they had forced the group to move on far more quickly than she’d expected.
The rest had been something of a blur, especially after the following station. A full team of lancers had taken over, and the students had had little to do but eat and sleep. They certainly hadn’t talked much. Violet had worked to establish banter as a method of coping in the group, but that could only take her so far. Alex had been her boyfriend, after all. She couldn’t sell quips as a reasonable response to leaving him behind.
Particularly not with Chase nearby. The two had formed something of an alliance, demanding that they spend longer looking for Alex. After that failed, Chase had refused to speak at all. If Violet were to recover too quickly in any way, he certainly would have said something. Especially since he hadn’t been confirmed as dead. Violet wished he had been. That would have been easier for her. But she couldn’t exactly point him out. People would remember how easily she’d found him. So she had to pretend to hope. She’d handle Chase privately when she got a chance. She didn’t know how, but he obviously wanted to speak with her. There would be time for that later.
Because they had made it to Chromatic Academy. The train had stopped at a station in the center of the school, and the students had been escorted to the headmaster’s office before anything else. Violet wasn’t certain if this was standard procedure, or if it was because a Lancer and two students had died on the way. But it didn’t matter. She was sitting in a pale purple hallway. She watched yellow clarity running through clear power lines on the ceiling while she waited to be interviewed. Chase sat on an old plastic chair on the other side of the hallway, silently panicking. He’d been like that since Alex had gone missing. In phases of rage and panic, back and forth. Whatever he thought would get him back to his friend faster.
This was enough to silence Aubrey, Guy, and Kiera as well. The air had been thick with tension for days, and no one quite knew how to break the ice. Violet was... bored with the atmosphere. Any guilt she felt for killing Alex had obediently shut up and shuffled itself into the corner of her mind. She was getting quite good at that, and she wanted to start getting to know her new friends better. She’d never had real friends before. She had people who liked her, but no one who truly considered her their equal. She had friends who didn’t pity her, until her boyfriend went missing. She could handle that easily enough... if she could deal with Chase somehow.
That rash part of her brain told her to kill him. She’d accepted that she would kill to take control of her life. Especially people like Chase, who had been responsible for half the sneering contempt she’d grown up around. But she was pushing her luck already. If she were the sole surviving student from Roseville, especially after they’d made it to safety, it would be hard not to suspect her of something. She just needed him gone, or under her control.
The thought was interrupted as the door in the middle of the hallway opened up. A moment later, middle-aged man stepped out with a clipboard in his hand.
“Violet Asher?” he asked. Violet looked up at him. She very carefully constructed her smile. Warm but shattered. Friendly but fragile. The exact expression of a nervous girl trying to make a good impression, despite the grief she was supposed to be feeling. She allowed Chase to see this, even while turning a bit to hide it from the others. She’d encouraged their seating arrangement specifically to make this possible. She needed to show more grief to some of them than others.
“That’s me,” she responded. The man adjusted his glasses and nodded.
“The headmaster is ready to interview you,” he said. Violet bit one lip nervously.
“I—Interview?” Violet asked. “I thought we were just accepted to the academy if we volunteered, right?” The man looked up at her with only his eyes, his head still directed toward the clipboard.
“Not that type of interview, Miss Asher. Please, follow me,” he responded. Violet sniffled, then nodded. She followed him into what she quickly realized was a comically oversized office, full of clutter and stacked articles. It somehow lacked any whimsy at all, despite colors of every category decorating the room. There was a desk to one side, and another door to a smaller office in the back. This is where the man led her. He knocked exactly twice, then opened the door without waiting for an answer. “She is ready, sir,” he said, before stepping to the side. Violet took this as the invitation it was and walked past him. As she did, he left, closing the door with her inside.
In the smaller—if no less cluttered—office, a man sat behind a disaster of a desk. He was perhaps sixty or so, as far as Violet could tell. Before speaking, she scanned the nameplate at the front of the desk before introducing herself. “Um, good morning, Mr. Bouvier,” Violet greeted. “I’m Violet Asher.”
“Which branch of the Asher family are you from?” he immediately asked. It wasn’t an unexpected question, but Violet was still irritated by it.
“Roseville, sir,” she answered. Mr. Bouvier, the headmaster, if his nameplate was to be believed, grunted.
“So a small branch. No matter. Your name won’t buy you any favors in this academy either way, Miss Asher. Do you understand that?” he asked. Violet offered a polite but tired smile. She was aware of her family’s influence at large. If it weren’t for their name, there would be no such thing as a rich family in a town like Roseville. Still, she’d spent most of her life with nothing attached to her name but disappointment.
“Of course not, Mr. Bouvier,” Violet responded. “I’m only here to learn, after all.” Her voice had only a hint of insincerity, but the headmaster seemed to pick it up regardless. He gave her a long, calculating stare before he spoke again.
“... Of course. I’m relieved to hear that. We certainly don’t need any students who value their name more than their performance,” he replied. He seemed to scan her, still standing in front of his desk. He had no chair for guests, which annoyed Violet greatly. Not because she couldn’t stand, but because of the way the choice was used to establish control. “That aside, it seems we have more pressing matters to discuss. It has been reported to me that your group had... a few particularly unfortunate incidents on the way over,” he said. There was a question in his voice, but Violet wasn’t entirely certain what it was. Nevertheless, he watched her as if expecting a response.
“We left someone behind. I’d like to go back,” she responded. It seemed like a reasonable request to make, and allowed her to avoid elaborating on the trip a second time. One way to avoid being caught in a lie was to include as many honest details as possible. Another far simpler, yet more difficult trick, was to avoid telling the same lie too often to too many people. She’d rather not need to repeat the story, if she could avoid it. The headmaster sniffed at the response. His expression made it clear that whatever he’d been expecting, he was disappointed.
“Rest assured, Miss Asher, we have a team of lancers investigating the area already. I can promise no more than that, as far as your friend’s safety. But they will look,” he assured. Violet almost assumed it was a lie. It had the faint chime of dishonesty. But she quickly realized it was the motive of the mission he was hiding, rather than its existence at all. The station needed attention, after all. Of course they would go back. Even with a manpower shortage, maintaining stations and recording unusual hedron activity would be a priority.
Still, Violet tossed a relieved veneer over her shoulders like a shawl. “I know he’s probably...” Violet trailed, allowing her chin to quiver a bit before clenching her fists and forcing herself to start over. “I understand if you can’t find him. Thank you for looking,” she finally said.
“Were you close with him? This...” the headmaster paused to look through the reports in front of him. “Alex Jiron?” Violet nearly narrowed her eyes at the question. She recognized the report he was reading. It was the same report the lancers had been composing while questioning her. Which meant he knew perfectly well what her relationship with Alex was.
Violet loathed when other people tried to play games with her. To manipulate her. It felt like being slowly pushed off a cliff. But she had no choice but to play along. She hated her new headmaster for that. She nodded meekly.
“He is very important to me, yes,” she replied. She sniffled as she did, but made a show of putting on a brave face and composing herself. Mr. Bouvier’s eyes darkened slightly, but betrayed little of the thought behind them.
“I also understand that you’ve progressed through several degrees in an incredibly short time. Is this true?” Bouvier asked. The callous and sudden change in topic irritated Violet even more. It was clearly intended to put her off balance. She found it unlikely that she was a suspect of anything. None of the deaths had been attributed to murder so far. It was more likely he did this with every student, as a matter of policy. Perhaps to encourage honesty, and perhaps to exert authority. Either way, Violet was unimpressed.
“I’m... sorry?” Violet asked.
“I asked about your rapid advancement through the category red,” Bouvier repeated.
“Sorry, I was just taken aback by the change in subject. I guess I’m still thinking about Alex,” Violet replied. She wasn’t sure what the man’s game was, so she replied in the way she thought felt most sincere, while also not easily answering his question. She just wanted to move on, and the man was growing irritating.
“I already answered your question about the missing student to the best of my ability, Miss Asher. And you answered mine to my satisfaction. I will take your relationship with the boy into account when appropriate. Now, I have several other students to interview. Lingering on answered questions is a waste of both of our time. To place you in the appropriate classes, I must know how quickly you are advancing,” he insisted. The irritation in his voice inspired an almost instant and likely permanent distaste.
The question itself, however, gave Violet pause. She wanted to hide exactly how much she’d grown in the last month. Making it to degree six in a single trip was already astonishing, but making it to nine in a second? That alone could cast suspicion on her. Violet wasn’t aware of other callings like hers. Calling that explicitly and exclusively granted advancement for controlling and killing people, that is. But that didn’t mean they didn’t exist. She couldn’t even be certain she was the first reaper. She was no unparalleled genius. In fact, she was—if her grades were any indicator—extremely average in intellect.
But that was better than stupid. Which meant she understood that if she continued to jump degrees whenever someone died around her, people would notice. That wouldn’t be too significant an issue now that she was in Prism City. So long as she made sure to... advance while in the city, instead of in the mist. But she didn’t want to reveal her actual degree here, just in case.
The problem was, she had actually done a lot that should have helped her advance. And she’d already displayed how quickly she could advance. She needed that to be at least a little consistent. She also didn’t get the chance to see if her friends had reached new degrees. Not with the heavy silence over the group in Alex’s absence.
And, of course, there was this mention of class placement. It was this that made Violet’s decision, ultimately. She didn’t know much about classes at the academy yet. But she knew how power worked. If she was going to be placed somewhere, she’d be placed above as many people as she could.
“Um, yes. It’s true. I’m... I’m a degree seven, now,” Violet admitted. The headmaster allowed one eyebrow to twitch curiously, but failed to react beyond that. He glanced at a conspicuously blank wall to the side of the office.
“Show me,” he ordered. Violet flinched at the command, but she didn’t complain. Someday, she’d make anyone who spoke to her that way pay. But this was the headmaster of Chromatic Academy. She knew neither his calling nor category, but both would likely be beyond her, even if she wanted to risk fighting him. Which would be, well, incredibly stupid. So she complied, even as she wondered how she could exact some small revenge. She pressed her right hand to the wall and activated her empathy ring. The usual tree crawled across the wall and displaced everything about her that mattered to the world.
Violet AsherCategory [Red]Calling Degree {7}AttributesAgility (109)Constitution (47)Dexterity (86)Endurance (53)Perception (150)Resistance (67)Strength (38)
Bouvier examined it for a long moment, then sniffed. “Very well. That is satisfactory,” he finally said, then returned his eyes to the document in front of him. He seemed to focus on it entirely, forcing Violet to reinitiate conversation.
"Will that be all? You know what classes I'll be assigned?" Violet asked. Bouvier sighed and shook his head.
"Of course not. You went into a nest without any training, and you witnessed the deaths of three people. We aren't monsters, Miss Asher. Neither you nor any other student subjected to such traumatic events will be placed in any classes until you've cleared a psych screening."