Entry tags:

profile, sample rp, version deux

Yesterday's only a memory, and tomorrow is never what its supposed to be.

Character Information
Character Name(s): Susannah Alexandra Hattington-Hallmeyer
Nicknames/Aliases: Sasha, alley cat.
Gender: Female
Race: ½ Djin / ½ Water Mage
Actual Character Age: 19
DOB: January 28, 1988
Physical Description: Barely topping 5’1” Sasha is not an impressive physical specimen. Further complicating the vertical disadvantage are her baby face features, errant freckles, and unimpressive heavy shock of dark brown hair. Luckily what genetics failed to provide, upbringing and sheer attitude deliver. Sasha is charismatic and exceptionally adapt at presenting herself. Well versed on the importance of a Good Impression, she often dolls up in vintage: sleek Channel sheaths, 50’s era day dresses, Ginger Rogers heels. Tailored business pleats and crisp collars are also kosher. Make-up? Impeccable. Manicure? Immaculate (though conspicuously short.) When “off the clock” Sasha is resolutely invisible, the peacock belle morphing into a drab brown sparrow of muted pullovers and rumpled denim. (Plaid flannel becomes an all too real possibility.)

Her eyes are a normally a clear light brown, but turn violet when concentrating on recall, the shade varying according to the age and depth of the memory.

Distinguishing marks: Sasha has a navel piercing, adamantly kept under wraps. The belly ring is actually a charm sealing off Sasha’s connection to her twin sister. Close examination would show a sigil translating as “protection against lightning” engraved on the ring.

PB: Ellen Page
Birth Location: Rome, Italy
Personality: Sasha’s exterior and inner contents are typically a contradiction, and damn if Little Miss Contrary doesn’t get a kick out of it. She divides her time, and behavior, into “on call” and “off the clock”, applying each state with its own flavor of behavior.

When “on call” Sasha is serene, polite, and winningly sweet. Very sweet. With her ice cream smile, sugar-lilt voice, and seemingly seamless pleasantness, she comes off as a mix between a teenage Hans Christian Andersen’s Snow Queen and a Sandra Dee clone. The winsome and composed image means it usually takes a moment to comprehend how weird her comments can be. Off the clock the sugary socialite melts into a mercurial, acerbic bundle of barbs. But good or bad, the three chronic constants of Sasha’s character are her nerve, her will, and her monstrous perseverance.

Sasha is chronic overachiever who does nothing halfway and harshly disapproves of lax behavior in others. To her idleness is torture. She tends to substitute action for emotion, often keeping busy in lieu of genuine serenity. Too proud to openly accept her shortcoming (her illiteracy, aquaphobia, etc) she often strives to overcompensate in related fields. Her dedication to the task can be intimidating.

Socially, Sasha is a celibate flirt, a fast talker, and a cool customer. Though often surprisingly friendly and outgoing, she’s exceptionally frank about drawing lines. (Eager hands think twice: don’t try to make a grab unless you want to pull back a stump.). She loves good tea and fine conversation, is openly generous, and (almost) never raises her voice in anger. (Just remember not to ridicule her country music collection or she’ll drive a pretty pink satin pump heel right up your—well, just don’t mock the music.)

Given her upbringing, it’s unsurprising that Sasha is both presumptuous and flippant towards the supernatural. She is adamantly wary and hostile on the subject of vampires. Mindful of her position in Halcyon, however, Sasha is impeccably respectful to fanged faculty. She is significantly less civil towards students of the same ilk.

Sasha’s a natural cynic who was born Catholic and educated by a Gnostic, the resulting character being somewhat incongruous. Despite the pessimistic bluster, she says grace before every meal and prays sincerely (out of sight).

Among Sasha’s role models are Scheherazade, Brillat-Savarin, Ambrose Bierce, and John Henry Holliday. “May I ask a question?” is the most dangerous sentence she knows.

Personal Background:
“They shot Dad. Mom said it’d be safe here. I think Sherry’s dead. Got any apple juice?”

Maybe the words weren’t the best introduction to get from the strange, big-eyed child suddenly on your doorstep, but they were the only thing six-year old Sasha had to offer. An alchemist and magical artificer, Josiah Hattington was a man living in committed seclusion and multifaceted obscurity. He once tutored and employed Peter (Sasha’s father) but otherwise admitted no relation to the man, much less his daughter. The story gradually extracted from the child provided little illumination; the family had been chased by “bad men”, Mom and Dad split up with a child apiece, Dad got shot, Sasha wandered around the MBTA with incomplete directions to Josiah’s house until finally figuring out the path to his doorstep, the end. The precocious ambiguity sipping Perrier on Josiah’s couch was stubbornly insistent about staying with her “godfather” until her Dad/Mom arrived to say otherwise. Josiah’s household was absolutely bewildered when the he agreed, welcoming her to stay until her parents arrived.

Sasha wound up staying for over twelve years.

It didn’t take the household long to recognize that the newest arrival wasn’t altogether ordinary and not entirely human. The revelation was comforting; few of Josiah’s staff were completely human. The master of the house was also an uncommon specimen; Josiah, a.k.a. the Mad Hatter, was a professional “facilitator” and artificer, operating in the unsound world of the supernatural as something between a benign Mephistopheles and Rumpelstiltskin. People (human or otherwise) had problems; Josiah provided solutions…for a price.

Despite all logic, the newfound “relation” fit snugly into Josiah’s life. She bonded best with Josiah’s personal bodyguard-cum-butler Constantine (a.k.a. Kostya), in due course becoming his fencing and systema student. A close second in Sasha’s affections was Tori, the resident Air elemental and house chef. Sasha had the utmost direct loyalty and adoration towards Josiah, especially during her early years. Confronted with a child’s absolute devotion the loner found his stoicism crumbling and grew increasingly more involved in the girl’s life and development.

Sasha’s life centered on her ongoing and ever expansive education, and Sasha’s education was twofold. On the one hand lay the amalgam of classical studies, social etiquette, and generalities that composed her domestic studies. Josiah spared no effort or expense in molding his ward into what Sasha laughingly dubbed a “polymath-in-mercurial-progress”. (Josiah didn’t appreciate the label’s acronymic adaptation.) The majority of his attention applied to Sasha’s extraordinary memory. Under Josiah’s tutelage Sasha learned the ars memoria (art of memory) and began building a “memory palace” as part of the necessary mnemonic link system. She christened her memory palace Cauda Pavonis in honor of Josiah’s alchemy.

The second half of Sasha’s education involved poking into Josiah’s business territory, an intrusion allowed only under strict supervision. Chaperoned, Sasha occasionally acted as courier and interpreter when traveling with others on Josiah’s behalf. Her memory and observation skills were camouflaged by her age, a fact Josiah was quick to make use of (provided the chaperones could be relied to keep the master’s pet protégé out of trouble.) Life was good.

…until it wasn’t.

A week after her sweet sixteen, Sasha collapsed into an inexplicable three day coma. She awoke from the state disoriented but physically unharmed—except for the sudden inability to read. The condition was ruled as a result of severe shock which Josiah in turn explained as a backlash of a curse, most likely coming from some “troubled” clients in his acquaintance. Sasha readily accepted the explanation obeying her perfect trust in Josiah. She was further distracted by his announcement to officially adopt her. She officially became Susannah Alexandra Hattington-Hallmeyer (though Sasha continued refer to Josiah as her godfather). Life resumed routine.

…until the dreams started.

First sporadically then with alarming frequency Sasha dreamt vividly of faces she did not know, places she never visited, and…wine. Or something else ambrosial and satisfying and red, very red. Disturbed by some unnamed element of the dreaming, Sasha nonetheless resisted confiding in Josiah. Her unease stewed for nearly two years; it spiked when one of the unknown faces showed up in Josiah’s salon. This time Sasha was awake—and close enough to spot the fangs. When the vampire left, having negotiated some minor transaction involving manticores, magnets, and pesky shipping errors, Sasha followed. She was good, she was careful, and two days later she was in Venice walking down a street she almost knew towards a door she could almost name. The door turned out to be the gate of a neglected garden; Sasha jimmied the lock and went inside to….wait. When the sun set she finally found what she’d been looking for and immediately understood why the compulsion to follow her nightmares beat so strong and deep. Because the face appearing before her wasn’t an anonymous mystery, but instead a twin of her own: Sherry.

Sasha’s shock at finding her sister alive quickly flipped at discovering that “alive” was an overstatement. Sherry was a vampire somewhat recently sired (her “death” having the reason for Sasha’s short coma) and she had brutal information to share with her sibling. Unlike Sasha, Sherry was well aware of her sibling’s survival, but had been reluctant to make previous contact because she “didn’t want to give the Mad Hatter a chance to finish what he started.” When Sasha demanded an explanation, Sherry gave it, and by the time the sun rose and Sherry left, Sasha’s world was in ruins. Devastated she returned home to Boston.

Back home Sasha immediately confronted Josiah with the truth of his connection to her family: her mother Alleluia had previously made a deal to get free of the obedience oaths binding her. In return for his help, Alleluia was supposed to serve time as a bondservant. However, upon being freed the djin fled without paying the bill. Years after her flight, she was suddenly captured and unceremoniously dragged to Josiah—who did not take kindly to being cheated. Scared and desperate, Alleluia proposed another deal; if Josiah let her go, she’d provide a child of her blood to serve as compensation permanently. Josiah agreed and gave her three years to fulfill the deal. After two years, Alleluia still hadn’t conceived; Josiah sent her a list of candidates as help—and as a warning reminder to not fail. Peter Hallmeyer wound up the “lucky” victor. But when the children were born, a surprising set of twins, Alleluia again refused to honor her end of the deal. Instead she went on the run again, dragging her family behind and all the while lying about the reasons for their flight.

Being a djin whose specialty was knowledge and memory, (that being the main reason Josiah dealt with her in the first place) Alleluia manipulated her husband’s memory to aid her purposes. Josiah’s patience expired when he learned that Alleluia’s children inherited some of her ability. Not wanting to partake in any “crude violence” personally, he instead orchestrated to have others hound the little family, herding them towards Boston. Luckily (for Josiah) both Alleluia and Peter had collected a fair number of enemies in their lives; Peter because of his ex-career as a bounty hunter and Alleluia because she was…well, she was Alleluia. Josiah only asked two things in return for the information; don’t let the family separate until they reached Boston and don’t harm the children. (In all honesty, Josiah had expected Alleluia to finally confess the nature of their deal to Peter upon realizing where their pursuers were driving them. He knew the man would then see fit to approach Josiah personally and looked forward to settling matter. Unfortunately, Alleluia had refused to abandon the illusion and Peter died without ever truly understanding the situation.)

When Sasha demanded to know why he didn’t collect her sister as well, Josiah was brutally honest: he had bargained for one child, not two. Furthermore he’d heard that Sasha inherited more of Alleluia’s capability while Sherry leaned more towards Peter’s water magic. In other words, Sherry had nothing he needed; she wasn’t necessary. Later, when his care of Sasha evolved from a project into genuine affection Josiah looked into Sherry’s whereabouts. When he found her in the custody of a vampire, one completely without interest in “selling” the girl, Josiah took pains to conceal all knowledge of the matter from Sasha, even going so far as to place spells to barricade the twin’s potential psychic connection (a connection that was bound to strengthen as both received training for their abilities). He feared that if Sasha knew her sister’s situation she would confront the vampire and get herself killed in the process. Sherry’s turning, however, boosted the psychic aspect of her magic and overwhelmed the barrier between the twins. It was never my intention to hurt you, Josiah said. I only wanted—but Sasha was already out of the room.

Heartbroken and furious, Sasha fled to Thailand. (It was the only flight available permitting pet accompaniment, her dog Dreizen being the only family member she still trusted.) Unsurprisingly, by the time her place touched down in Bangkok there was a hired car and hotel reservations waiting. Sasha accepted the room and ignored Josiah’s telegram of apology/explanation/whatever. Though she eventually relented enough to phone certain members of the household, going so far as to allow Kostya’s arrival as a temporary bodyguard, she vehemently refused to either see or speak to Josiah. She did ultimately agree to see a psychologist.

A few months after their reunion, Sherry turned up in Sasha’s hotel lobby, flashing her sharp new smile and wanting to talk. She wasted no time in getting to the point: Sherry wanted Sasha’s helping in killing Josiah. Despite her feelings of betrayal and rage, Sasha refused. Sherry then began stalking Sasha, systematically wearing down her twin’s wounded mental state and at the same time showing signs of her own questionable sanity. The vampire had no qualms about exploiting her sister’s feelings of guilt and betrayal. Things came to an ugly head when Sherry attacked Sasha. The attempt failed, Sherry got stabbed (grave, but not fatal), and Sasha had a near breakdown. Fearing for the girl’s state, Sasha’s therapist, Dr. Gideon Quinn, a Halcyon alumnus, suggested a change of scenery in order to restore the sense of order and purpose Sasha was accustomed to. Translation: Sasha was a student, she needed a school.

Dr. Quinn knew just the place…

Family:
Peter Hallmeyer – Father. Water mage, impracticable hero, deceased. Peter was a successful, if reckless, bounty hunter until meeting Alleluia and retiring to start a family. Got shot dead for his trouble.
Alleluia– Mother. Djin, domestic deserter, traitor. Whereabouts unknown, reconciliation unwanted.
Charlotte Danielle Hallmeyer –a.k.a. Sherry. Sister. Twin, polar opposite, vampire. Sanity is questionable, potential for violence impressive.
Josiah Hattington –a.k.a Mad Hatter. Godfather, guardian, and mentor. An alchemist and prodigious artificer (craftsman), Josiah’s lifework—and in many ways his life—is fashioning solutions for supernatural problems and whimsies. The spectrum of his services ranges from penning indissoluble contracts to crafting divinatory chess sets to disassembling curses. His fees are astronomical, his reputation is august, and he’s only a quarter crazy as his clientele believes.
Constantine Nikolaevich Shevchenko –a.k.a. Kostya. Pseudo-uncle, bodyguard, fencing master and systema sensei. Also, pool mentor.
Torikago Nowaki – a.k.a. Tori. Pseudo-aunt, air elemental, and chef. Responsible for teaching Sasha the importance of basil and dressing for dinner.
Dreizen –a.k.a. Dizzy. Doberman pinscher. Bred and trained to deal with supernatural species, he’s especially sensitive to wereanimals. Dreizen is wholly obedient to Sasha and well-trained enough that he’s not a risk around others (human or otherwise.)

Weakness: Alexia without agraphia: Sasha can write but not read, not even if it’s words from her own hand. The condition is a backlash of her sister’s vampire turning. She relies on recorders and blind aid software to maneuver around the failing (with varying success.) She’s deeply embarrassed by the handicap.

Aquaphobia: Despite being the daughter of a water mage, Sasha is intensely aquaphobic, nursing to a morbid fear of drowning. This fear is most likely a result of her “memory reading” being reliant on water as a medium and her being as of yet unable to process the experience.

High-speed metabolism: Sasha burns energy at a remarkably fast rate, especially since suffering the shock of her sister’s turning. Her appetite reflects this as she’s able to eat twice her weight in one sitting. Coincidentally Sasha has a profound weak spot for sweets, one that’s impressive even in terms of her massive appetite. (Most likely her appetite increase stems from the “seals” blocking her connection to Sherry and the energy/fuel required for their upkeep.)

Magical Abilities: Superior memory: Emphasis on super. Sasha’s memory is markedly uncanny and undeniably inhuman. Along with instant recall she has 100% comprehension. Her working memory range is vast while her long-term memory is theoretically immeasurable.

Retrocognition: Unlike her mother, Sasha has no power to alter or erase people’s memories. She can however occasionally perceive others’ memories, though so far her range has proved to be limited and unreliable. In a puzzling, and annoying, twist of genetics Sasha requires water as a medium. The requirement is awkward since Sasha is aquaphobic. (Though Sasha uses a clairvoyant term her ability is magical more than psychic.)

Being half djin, Sasha’s inherited half the parcel of superior speed, senses and healing.

Any Training: Sasha practices the ars memoriae (“art of memory”), specifically the method of loci. She’s been rigorously trained and has over the years successfully constructed her own memory palace (both under Josiah’s strict tutelage.) Her arsenal of social niceties is similarly extensive, covering everything from chopstick protocol to tango decorum.

Thanks to Kostya’s instruction, and Sasha’s own unflagging persistence, she’s practices an adapted version of systema, a Russian martial art. (She also has some experience in its relative sambo.) At nineteen Sasha is a far cry from being a master of the discipline, but she’s a damn good devotee, having beating more advanced students often enough to prove her potential. She is also a disciplined fencer, focusing on saber. Her inherited advantages of superior speed and sense no doubt play a large part in the rate of her progress. (That, and she’s practices with a downright nuclear intensity.) She’s familiar with basic firearms but is neither an expert nor an enthusiast.

On a less martial note, Sasha enjoys “civilized” dance (ballet and ballroom) and the violin. She can play certain piano pieces admirably.

Special Skills: Despite being generally illiterate Sasha is a polyglot. Josiah’s social circle was widely international and he himself spoke a number of languages with perfect fluency. Armed with her advanced memory and a good ear, Sasha proved an able linguist and has steadily been studying languages since first coming to live with Josiah. She claims to be universally fluent in gastronomy.

Sasha is a fine cook and an exacting gourmand, being able to remember and analyze tastes and textures with eerie accuracy. She has an unabashed passion for food and very, very specific cravings; while others find themselves hankering for something a tad salty or a teeny bit sweet, Sasha’s taste buds will demand pan fried sea bass with fennel soup and spiced aubergine compote—no argument allowed.

Sasha is a B-level pool player, with occasional slips into A class. She’s a keen cheat at dice and Monopoly, and an apt sleight of hand.
House: Zephyr House
Start Date at Halcyon:: 2007 Summer quarter (late start due to “medical” reasons)
Classes:
-Early Morning: Science: Biology
-Mid Morning: Abstract Sciences – Science behind Magic
-Late Morning: Art: Painting
-Mid Afternoon: Psychology
-Late Afternoon: Philosophy
-Early Night: Astronomy
After School Clubs: Fencing Club
Job:
AIM Name: TheCallico
Rooming with: Alone, unless you count Dizzy the Doberman.

Your information
Characters insanejournal name: vintage_fraud
Your email: musesan@gmail.com
Your messengers (aim/yahoo/msn): TheCallico (AIM)
Your name (internet or real): Lena
Your age: 24
What are the mods names?: Jessie, Linda, Stacey.
Link to colored photo for characters page: http://www.ellenpages.com/gallery/albums/Photoshoots/2007/2007%20-%20Randall%20Slavin/normal_RandallSlavin_004.jpg


Optional Questions
Where did you hear about the Halcyon Halls rpg?: Google. No, seriously.
What caught your interest with the rpg?: Original characters, MODERN supernatural setting (that wasn’t Harry Potter). HH looked like a place that invited people to do “their own thing” without brewing unnecessary catfights. And really, really I like that in a RPG.


ETA:
-Updated Sasha's family listing: added Tori's profile, Josiah's and Peter's job descriptions, and corrected a glitch in Kostya's skills.
-Fixed Sasha's age discrepancy.
-Amended Sherry's attack.
-Changed Sasha's sealing tattoo to a belly ring.

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If this exile had taught her anything, Sasha decided, it was to never do therapy on an empty stomach. Luckily, Bangkok’s streets were a plum buffet of sweets and savories—and spice.

“And she gave the king a hundred and twenty talents of gold, and of spices great abundance, and precious stones: neither was there any such spice as the queen of Sheba gave King Solomon.”

“Arai?” The satay vendor blinked without comprehension.

“New Testament, Book of Chronicles,” Sasha said in English. Then Thai: “Aow sib mai.” She spread her fingers for emphasis and the vendor grinned. On these streets a healthy appetite was heartily appreciated. What’s more, Sasha had long since proven herself to be a steady customer. The vendor happily passed a plate saddled with ten zesty sticks of porky goodness and Sasha happily accepted the bounty. Unlike most of the foreign flock temporarily stumbling through the stalls, she had no fear of germs or indigestion; the only true concern Sasha had was getting grease on her skirt. She couldn’t afford stains, not today.

Last time her therapist—the ingenuous Dr. Gideon Quinn—spilled ominous mutterings about “emotional repression” so today Sasha dressed in battle mode: a persuasive Clare Potter’s knockoff, lacey high-heeled sandals, bridal hair clip. No major makeup, not yet. The spackle could wait till she finished her eating tour and retreated into AC territory. Dreizen padded besides her, loyally uncomplaining about the heat. There was a glint of red on his jaw; Sasha ducked down to mop at it with a scented handkerchief. Dreizen sneezed.

“Gesundheit, lucky.” She folded the hanky back into her pocket and attempted a better grip on the plate of skewers. “Figures that the only hound addicted to strawberry slush is on my payroll. An embracement to your breed, you are.”

The Doberman swiped an unrepentant lick across her fingertips. The sensation was wetly familiar. Dizzy used to gnaw her hand all time as a puppy, until Kostya’s training culled it out. Funny, how she hadn’t realized missing the sloppy affection. Then again, maybe he was just after the pork; she set down some skewers, splitting the haul between them evenly. Not surprisingly Sasha was done with her share long before Dizzy finished chomping his. Content to wait, she perched on a peeling bench and watched the hordes trek by. Because, hell, it wasn’t like Sasha had anything useful to do.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, she was bored.

She missed Boston. She missed the house, her room, Tori’s kitchen. She missed Kostya’s drills and critique, the tempo of sabre versus foil. She missed the plea of a violin bouncing in the attic library’s acoustics. She missed dressing for dinner. She missed dissecting Plato during afternoon tea. She missed the questions and comments and wit and allegories. She missed her life.

She missed Josiah, too.

The thought was too bitter to swallow unaided; Sasha veered towards the nearest stall to score a dollop of gaeng pa, jungle curry, the hottest dish in Thailand. The nuclear chilies and bamboo shoots traditionally hid the flavor of wild game or nearly spoiled meat. Now the scalding mix helped swathe the ache in her throat. Don’t think about him, don’t think about him, don’t think…

It wasn’t that she didn’t like Bangkok, Sasha reasoned with forced equilibrium. She liked a great deal about it, actually. The National Gallery was lush fodder for memory palace, for one thing. The mazelike markets were a shopper’s, and sociologist's, paradise—provided one didn’t mind sparing a little sweat and elbow grease while hunting—and the Museum of Forensic Medicine had been a chilly pleasure to explore; she’d ordered a photo of the cannibal See Uey’s mummy for her shrink in honor of their first session. (Most likely a postcards from the city’s Punishment museum would’ve been more kosher.) Bangkok had canals and temples, teak houses and monks, wonderful spa treatments. The traffic was impossible, a sentient ever-evolving monster, but Sasha liked its mindless ferocity, the crazy oomph of it. The overheated crowds didn’t faze her. She’d spent hours sleepwalking through the massive flower market, drunk on marigolds and orchids.

And then there was the food.

Fried dough balls, pork and pineapple on a stick, handy bags of orange soda, pork crepes with tiny eggs, dessert tacos—oh, happy, happy Thailand. Good Lord, the things these people did with coconut made sex redundant. Sasha was besotted with yam makhua, a salad of grilled eggplants, tiny dried shrimps, and fresh shallots. In the hands of a skilled griller, the vegetables had a smoky, crunchy exterior, but were juicy and sweet as peaches within. Skewers of spice-marinated chicken livers, grilled and aromatic, seemed bright as lollipops. Tea was everywhere, guzzled by everyone, but coffee with deep-fried Chinese bread was the morning market’s best prize. It tasted of chicory and chocolate powder. Who could resist the fresh sea bass, redolent with chilies and chopped garlic, its lemon-lime accent romantic as Shelley? The chilies weren’t simply a topping, but embedded into the fish meat; they popped out onto the tongue like fireworks. Banana flower salads and gooey-oozy sticky rice cooked in coconut cream. Soups flavored with tamarind and palm sugar, packed with chunks of chopped cauliflower. Triangular samosas soaking each bite with a puree of potatoes and spices. Unripe mangoes awash with sweet chili sauce. Charcoal-grilled fish sausages. Lemongrass.

And yet…it wasn’t enough. Well fed while fed up, well dressed while depressed, soundly psychoanalyzed while profoundly displaced—oh, hell, things just weren’t right.

Almost unconsciously her fingers crept to extract a neat slip of monogrammed paper. No words except the monogram, but there was a short line of numbers printed neatly on the vellum. Dr. Quinn said the scout would be “in town” till the week’s end at most. It was already Thursday…

“In this safe place let me secure your fear. No clashing swords, no noise can enter here. Amidst our arms as quiet you shall be, as halcyons brooding on a winter sea.” At the sound of her voice Dreizen raised his head. Sasha reached down to rub a knuckle between the perky ears, soothing him. “Just a little Dryden, pup, nothing to fret about.”

Halcyon could also mean golden days, couldn’t it? And Sasha had an alchemist’s keen respect for gold—along with a healthy wariness of its authenticity when in conjunction with the supernatural. A supernatural school, however, edged outside her field of experience. It was an insane suggestion, of course.

Wasn’t it?

She couldn’t help returning to what Dr. Quinn said when introducing the idea: No matter how bad or messed up you think your story is, someone in Halcyon has felt—and survived—a similar tale. It’s not a last resort, Sasha; it’s an opportunity.

Sasha found the words insipidly patronizing at first, but now they kept echoing inside her with rising force. An opportunity. She’d had training and an education, but each of those came with an invisible length of chain and a measure of debt; they’d never been meant to grant independence or opportunity. Before she hadn’t minded the chains, they’d been a link to rely on. Likewise the debt had been motivation, a chance to prove her worth. When those illusions evaporated Sasha was left bereft of purpose.

So…why not Halcyon? It might turn out to be fool’s gold but at least she’d be going into the gig with her eyes open. That novelty alone was worth the price of admission—whatever Halcyon’s fee might be.

“Besides,” she told Dreizen, “I bet they’ll put us into Slytherin.”
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