Even one as prickly as Tisk had to stop and stare in awe for a moment as she entered the courtyard. Beacon Academy was a far cry from the small town she had come from, that much was for sure. She tried to be happy for herself as she walked down the path--she had worked hard to get here, after all. Even in her entrance trials, they had remarked at the young Faunus's sheer grit and determination. You could knock her down time and time again, and each time she'd get right back up, wearing her foes down with pure tenacity. When training spars had transitioned to supervised Grimm hunts, she had shown an even more aggressive nature, gouging holes in the unfortunate monsters no matter how much punishment their teeth and claws seemed to inflict.<br/><br/>She<i>should</i>have been proud of herself for making it this far, for beating the odds, but...she felt hollow. Everywhere she looked, she saw Issan, picturing the boy's wide-eyed wonder as he took in the academy's splendor. Y<i>ou would have liked it here</i>, she thought, her sour expression going somber. He would have made an amazing Hunter had his life not been cut short. Now she was here to fulfill his dream for him and make sure that nobody else had to suffer what her family had.<br/><br/>Rubbing her eyes before the tears prickling at the edges of her vision could be seen by anyone else, she resumed walking, her Mauler gauntlets swinging at her sides. Not much of a fashion aficionado, Tisk was clothed in her usual garb--a dusty blue top and shortsleeve jacket, with tan trousers and bronze-tipped boots. A newsboy cap of the same blue perched dapperly atop her head, resting between her rat ears as they swiveled about. The long rodent tail trailing behind her garnered a few puzzled glances, but she had long since gotten used that. Besides, anyone who took issue with it was welcome to voice their opinions, which she would gladly answer with her fist in their face.<br/><br/>Some students seemed to be milling about, but most were heading towards a large central building. An orientation had been mentioned, and so she assumed that it was in there. The girl slipped through the crowd, making for the doorway, and looked around upon stepping inside. Students were streaming into a large auditorium, and she joined this crowd, picking an empty seat a ways away from the clustered groups of students. With a quiet huff, Tisk untied one of her gauntlets from her belt and set it on her lap, rummaging in one of her belt patches before withdrawing a few of her tools and a vial of machine oil. She maintained her weapons near-religiously, and she figured she might as well take a moment to tend to them before all the pomp and circumstance began.