Welcome to Gaia! ::

Dignified silence spiraled his statuesque form, regal bleeding out of his core as he stood head to head against the Head Boy of nobility and all things chivalry. Honestly, he wondered if the man across from him was even real, from the first day they’ve met, Storm felt too surreal, and it pierced deep into his flesh, he knew. Did the man feel rage, wrath, sloth, lust, or greed? He almost doubted it, but it was impossible.

And then, he wanted to laugh. The men were two sides of a different coin; one tarnished with sin, the other, polished clean to perfection. By Merlin! It got revolting sometimes. But the prefect remained callous and nodding, holding his ground only until Ronyo Storm finally receded. The prefect’s last parting words, ”right…”

Lurking in the midst of the sea of serpents, gold eyes reflected the world in a glossy veil with languish. Little interested him anymore, save for the merits that Lord Xilan manifested, the possibilities were endless. But, what did he want?

Closing his mind and rising the barriers of his mind, Tay felt a burning determination drilling into him. A subtle glance caught Michelle and he smirked. She was an enigma to him, one that brought on a curious challenge, a wanton prowl.

But he only nodded to her, besides, he still had one very life threatening dilemma to sort before his father decidedly did it for him. Betrothement. Marriage. A wife. An heiress. A dutchess.

And, how he was going to manage to slither free from its duty.

Idly, he began to wonder what choice he had left, but, on a second thought, he decided against dwelling on such things. Instead, his thoughts rolled on, to her, again, no less. Of Michelle, of what could have happened during the summer, and the pure fury at the sight of mangled body, lying in a puddle of blood.

He had felt.... So much. So much more than the usual petty jealousy, and more than profound hate, or pain. Whatever it was, he couldn't explain it... but, he wondered if he'd ever feel it again.

Wry lips barely made a subtle upturn at the corner, the ghost of a smirk as he glanced around the table between each face before him, all of proper genes, he notes, ivory features and dark hair and eyes, versus the redhead beside them. He’d hardly noticed it at first, too. Suddenly talk had turned to brawns and brains, blue eyes lazily flickering between Eliora’s comments and Marina’s. His gaze always settled upon Damien’s for a moment longer, as if to question him—not, crudely, though, just, curiously. Curious as to what brought on this change. Curious as to what happened to him last year that changed him. Curiouser and curiouser, but after another moment, he glanced away and tried not to let it show too much. ”I suppose for some it’s more the adrenaline, than anything else,” he lounged against the table, the full weight of his upper torso resting against his arms and elbows beside his goblet of pumpkin juice, seemingly as interested in this conversation as he was the sorting..

Which wasn’t much, he’d hardly clapped at all. ”Still…” Dominic carried on, tension filled the air too readily out in the open of the Great Hall. ”Knowledge is power….

“I see quite a few new professors, blimey, I wonder if this castle really is cursed?” He mused with a devious smile on his lips and a soft chuckle under his voice, he was joking of course, but, part of him still wondered…