<div class="floatright">(http://orig03.deviantart.net/02cc/f/2013/100/0/7/lars_alexandersson_by_ultramarineandwhite-d613ous.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Sigurd Thomas<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Ends at Main Hall<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Open (Mentions: Lark)<br/><hr/><br/><em>You’re lucky that your stripes aren’t as noticeable as mine.</em><br/><br/><em>Try to avoid gettin’ involved in student activities. You need to be a recluse so that you can carry out the job.</em><br/><br/><strong><em>Make sure that he understands what he must do if he’s caught.</em></strong><br/><br/><em>Hey; mind your business. He gots’ this.</em><br/><br/><em>I don’t think that it’s gonna come to that. We’ve all seen you fight, bro. There ain’t a single scrub in that academy who would be able to stop you.</em><br/><br/><em>Hey, look. You come back, all right? Don’t go doin’ any suicidal, kamikaze bullshit, all right? I mean…not unless you got to. Please just don’t end up like Mom and Dad.</em><br/><br/>He stared out the window of the airship at the blue sky, the birds, and the clouds. The excitable noise of the prospective huntsmen behind him fell on deaf ears. It had become background noise as he submerged himself into his thoughts. Hundreds…there were hundreds on this ship. He could have easily blown up the bird and sent it falling from the sky in a burning streamer to crash land into Beacon Academy. It would have made a statement but not an effective one. The retaliation would have only been immense.<br/><br/>Beacon Academy…his hands agitatedly gripped the bronze rail and his crimson brows gravitated toward each other on his forehead. Eyes of warm honey narrowed and a heavy frown turned his lips as the tower and academy buildings appeared on the horizon. He was going behind enemy lines alone. He and his brother had trained for years for this moment and here he was the first; the guinea pig.<br/><br/><em>I can’t afford to fuck this up,</em>Strype thought. It hadn’t been the suicide if he failed that put so much pressure on his shoulders. It was failure itself and leaving his brother alone with his death and their parents’ death on his mind. He couldn’t do that to him.<br/><br/><strong>Now landing at Beacon Academy. First year students, please head down the center pathway and into the main building for your introduction…</strong><br/><br/>Strype blinked his eyes and returned to the world. The crowd began to shift like water, flooding out the rear hatch.<br/><br/><strong>WHOOOO!...Last one in is a loo~ser~!</strong><br/><br/>Some kids never grew up. He released the rail and merged into the crowd, the impressions of his hands in the metal, deforming it a little. He brought his hands up to grasp the black straps of an odd black cylindrical machine on his back. It was obvious that it was his weapon or had something to do with his weapon, but that was all that could have been deciphered from first observation.<br/><br/>By the time he arrived in the main hall, the same mass of students occupied the space, their voices resonated at the ceiling in an incomprehensible din. The air had grown a bit warm with so many bodies concentrating one area. The headmaster would hopefully start the orientation soon and spare them all of each other’s presence.