Days; Some Grey and Grisly (Private w/ Jericho Galley)

[Professor Wednesday Haptasnytrir]

"Paranoid" apt described the presiding professor of Grimm Studies and Military Strategy at Vale's prestigious Huntsman academy. A combination of the unique demands of each respective field with an oft witnessed sense of alertness strongly impressed good reason for it among the student body. The eye patch, for one, reigned a storied topic for her charges attempting to puzzle out the history behind it. Loss of a vital organ reasonably justified a degree of wariness. The supposedly violent manner in which it was done may also have contributed to an unwillingness to brush against similar circumstances if it could be done. In actuality, her areas of study and maiming had little influence on Wednesday's cautionary attitude. Contributing factors at most, but more accurately extensions than root causes. Survival necessitated a thorough approach of the day to day whether new or normalized. Fresh faces were considered a regular part of her career, but were in-built as routine since the start. Wednesday's activities had made consistent interaction with her students integral to the efficient and effective execution of her responsibilities. Which made this day's practiced task of role call perplexing beyond the norm when she could not pair a particular name to the faces before her.

Wednesday had invested time before class was to begin familiarizing herself with the roster of huntsmen and huntresses to be. Some returning youths, yet more others that she had yet to ever meet. Snippets of information called forth by her touch across a screen yielded cursory looks into the lives of each wellspring of potential. A wealth of data she had memorized. To meet a snag after careful preparation was... bothersome. Faculty would have notified her had there been a change in enrollment. Other changes to the profiles would have already occurred at the start of the semester once the accepted students had confirmed their stay after entry. Wednesday made it clear in the missive she had sent out to their Scrolls that unexcused absences would not be tolerated. Such messages accounting for missing attendants had been noted. Not looking up from her own device in hand, Wednesday called aloud the name she had attempted to place bearing the paired picture in mind. Failing to hear a response, she would simply mark the absence and move on. Wednesday's relaxed pace at the front of the lecture hall revealed nothing of the costernation she felt within.

"Is Johnny Silverhand present at the hour?"

Foundations to a proportionate disciplinary for the lad begun their construction as the seconds ticked by.

[Jericho Galley]

This Professor seemed to be taking her time with roll call. Jericho sat with his chin resting in his right hand, elbow on the desk, while he spun a pencil in his left. Helping Hand was active, like it was almost most of the time, hidden underneath his glove. He wondered if his Semblance would have been different if he hadn't lost his hand. Or, if it wouldn't have changed, how would he control a third hand? He currently controlled it the same way he moved and controlled a normal hand, just by telling it to do something, moving his muscles and tendons and what not. He wondered if he could contro-

He realized that the teacher had called out Johnny's name, and he raised his left hand, with the pencil still spinning, up into the air. "Presen-" The 'T' was cut off as the pencil slipped from his fingers and bumped his head. He cleared his throat and sat a bit straighter while the other students giggled. "Present, Professor Wednesday." He repeated himself before bending over to pick up the pencil from the floor.

This teacher was different from the other's, even Monarch. An eyepatch, which Jericho had seen enough of in his lifetime for it to be of any real note, but she seemed far more aware of her surroundings and what she dealt with. Reminded him of some Atlesian Military captains that the crew had run into in the past. Her last name was something quite odd and Jericho's reading skills were certainly not good enough to tell what it sounded like from the spelling on the board. She was tall, too, for a woman. But a tall, wary woman with battle scars... No way she was under Blackhand's control, he didn't have that much influence, but she was still someone to be wary of and not to get on her bad side.

[Professor Wednesday Haptasnytrir]

A brief while ensued registering the voice of "Johnny Silverhand" before Wednesday's pale blue eye traced its languid ascent. The expectation of seeing the young man whose description should have been much the same as was depicted in his profile. Alas, the contradiction made itself known the instant she comprehended his features and compared them to what had been documented. Hair that should have been a good deal fair was clearly that of a brunette's, which alone was not cause for scrutiny. Cosmetic applications were common place among the youth, especially those looking to make an impression. Wednesday was certainly no stranger to the practice. The sheer degree of difference between the official record on hand and the person claiming to be "Johnny Silverhand" was too great to ignore even when considering the most generous use of makeups or dyes. Save perhaps surgical alteration... Was she being pranked? Let it be known, Wednesday wasn't one to allow shenanigans to unfold as planned.

If this was the game he wanted to play it, so be it. She'd follow along with this little deception for now before stripping the wind from his sails. Mental tweaks to the day's lesson were made facilitating the new variable. So it was that Wednesday adopted a smile as acknowledgement before moving on to complete roll call for the rest of class. The brief exchange serving as the window in which she took apart "Johnny Silverhand" in thinly guised scrutiny. A gentle look all but piercing into his green eyes.

"Your attendance is appreciated, Silverhand." Amusement accompanied the name rolling from her lips with the stress only a mother could use when addressing their child. A tone reserved for when they hadn't done anything particularly wrong, but they didn't do anything good either.

The following lesson curated difficulty within reason for Wednesday's class. Students attending would be familiar with the concepts she'd present, but the content would certainly prove challenging enough for even those that read ahead.

[Jericho Galley]

Jericho noted how long it took her to respond, like gears were turning in her head. She was a little perplexed at something about him. She then replied to him, but none of the other students. She seemed to ask for him specifically, just calling out the other names while he himself had gotten something special, something to single him out. That... wasn't good. It would have meant a dozen of things, but none of them were good.

For the remainder of class, Jericho kept his eyes open for anyone making any moves, subtle or sudden. He watched the doors for anyone about to move in. But nothing. The class was a bit harder than he had thought it would be. He knew a lot about the sea-dwelling Grimm, but only the basics of land-lubbing ones. And the tactics were something he didn't recognize, though he found them interesting and wanted to learn more when his brain could actually wrap around them.

[Professor Wednesday Haptasnytrir]

Well, well. A welcome surprise to hear the young man was in possession of a wealth of detail on the aquatic variety of Grimm. However, in the same breath that he spoke familiarity with that sub-group was the comparatively lacking knowledge of those that dwelt on land. It was as if she had read through a civilian's copy of the Grimm bestiary to behold nothing but surface level information. On the one hand, it hinted at the young man's future as a specialized Huntsman dealing with such creatures. On the other, it was a disparity that left her wanting. Wednesday was able to get an idea of what kind of life this "Johnny Silverhand" lived as a result. Was he possibly a former resident of a coastal settlement? A life on the seas and waterways perhaps? That certainly narrowed down the area she would have to look over when conducting a background check on his identity. A single attribute would hardly be considered adequate. As many threads as possible were needed to weave a complete image when finding faults in a facade. She was getting ahead of herself… The way he eyed the doors did pique her interest, but it could simply be an unrelated tick. Whatever age or year, students always wanted to be out of class on onto their own activities. Oh, to be young and carefree. The thought warmed a ball of nostalgia in her breast swiftly cooled by the lump of ice she kept there.

The class wound down to its final hours and Wednesday dismissed them for the day at the lesson’s conclusion. The normal chaff of her schedule was over and it was time to address the curious spriggan she’d found among the sprouts. To that end… closing sensitive documents and pages; Wednesday leveled her faculty Scroll activating up the cameras in the classroom usually reserved for observing combat classes and overnight security. They would serve as witnesses and documentation for later scrutiny after she'd personally given "Johnny Silverhand" a once over if simply to satisfy the seed of curiosity he'd ingrained in her. Really, she had a terrible habit of letting her interest dictate her action.

“Silverhand. A word, if I may? There’s something I wish to discuss with you.”

[Jericho Galley]

Finally. Class was over. Jericho never had been good at sitting for long. He was used to moving his body from when he woke up to when he slept. No wonder students here stayed so active, they'd get fat otherwise. Professor Wednesday seemed to be engrossed in her scroll and Jericho took this time to head for the door. Just as he was about to exit he heard her call Johnny's name, his name. He debated to just keep walking and pretend he didn't hear her, but he felt like that wouldn't solve anything and may get worse for him in the long run.

He stopped and let out a breath. "Yes, Professor?" He stepped back into the room, hands on his bag strap. "If this is about me not knowing a lot of land Grimm, I'm sorry. The, uh, the ones out at sea interest me a lot more and so I've studied them a bit more than the others. I'll promise to study the other types more from now on." He hoped that would be all and she would just send him on his way. That was the most likely reason she wanted him to stay, maybe he just solved her problem.

[Professor Wednesday Haptasnytrir]

Was that a bit of tension winding him up there? Maybe he really did have a prior engagement to get to. She'd try to keep this impromptu meeting short for the sake of her student's precious time.

"Rest easy, Silverhand. The fact that you recognize the areas in which you lack and are taking strides to address them is a trait worthy of praise. It gladdens me to see your initiative and I encourage you to continue like endeavors. However, that, and your performance in class, was not why I have asked to speak with you. I will be checking in on it in the future, so bear that in mind." Wednesday settled herself down at even eye level with her student. She hoped to create a more casual setting for the proceedings this way by blunting the usual strictness a measure to put him at ease. She'd be getting more out of this if he was comfortable and the less this felt like a teacher interrogating their student, the smoother that would go. Even if that was actually what was happening right now. Making the height difference no longer a factor would hopefully play into that its success. Remember to put on a smile. That makes it easier for people to get far. That piece of wisdom summoned itself as if an apparition lending its kernel of aid. Hm...

Now didn't that sound all too like someone she once knew? Thinking about them brought up both bitter and begrudgingly happy memories to the fore much like how the person did themselves in life. The mixed feeling nearly didn't make it far enough to show on the surface from where it welled up from within.

Wednesday brushed a hand through her bangs and trailed her single blue eye from the Scroll she set aside to "Silverhand's" own complete set of greens. The device remained within reach should she have need of it. Her hand nestled on her lap as the other supported her frame on the desk's edge. A pose altogether made to be approachable and one she mastered as a seasoned educator.

"How are you faring in Beacon thus far? You seemed a touch out of sorts earlier, lad. I've an ear to lend if you wish to make use of it."

[Jericho Galley]

"Oh, uh, ok." Jericho was caught a little off guard at that. What else did she want to talk about? Was it that hiccup at role call? In the meantime, he had gotten himself a praise, but ultimately more honework. All this studying really wasn't his thing, though he couldn't say it was useless info. Infact, he found himself using more and more of what he was taught.

"How am I fairing?" He scratched the back of his head. "Well, the food is quite different from what I'm used to and I don't have the friends I used to have, but I have one. Or two. Plus I thought there would be a bit more active combat training and less books, but I suppose knowledge is power, right?" His weight shifted from side to side, a little unsure how this conversation was going or what she wanted.

[Professor Wednesday Haptasnytrir]

Wednesday closed her eye in a moment of contemplation. Uprooted from all he had known and thrust into a great unknown with only the thought of becoming a Huntsman as a guiding light. No matter how brilliant the spark had been, the doubts and the stress that came with academy life could smother it. That was the image that she saw in him. It was not a unique experience as she had witnessed many passing through the academy's halls becoming embittered by the strain its expectations and responsibilities placed on them. As much as Beacon boasted of being the foremost elite of the martial world, it was still a place that was far and removed from any support structure offered by the network of friends and family most of its students had built over the years. Anyone was liable to crack under the kind of pressure present of every hour here. That was a systemic issue Wednesday had heavily invested herself in and sworn to alleviate. Suspicions aside, someone under her care had given voice to their concerns and she would offer up the totality of her wisdom as aid.

"Mankind's power lies not in ceasing the tide, but riding them unto new horizons." The saying fell freely from her mouth before Wednesday could consciously think about it. "Ah, forgive this crone for rattling on. Your situation reminded me of much of what I went through myself and what my mother used to tell to me then. You can't help dusting off an adage whenever the opportunity presents itself at my age."

Less pleasant thoughts were swept away in a brief bout of amusement at her own self-inflicted jab. She couldn't provide anything more than the chance to create relationships for her students, but she could do something about food cravings. Beacon offered quite the spread, but it certainly couldn't provide that flavor of home distinct to the smaller settlements and isolated cultures outside of the kingdoms' umbrella of influence. That didn't mean that there weren't places in Vale at large that catered to such appetites. There was a quaint restaurant in the downtown area called 'Lil Mantle' Wednesday frequented that served the most delectable herb-roasted mutton~. Maybe a place there made a dish that tasted like memories for him she could recommend. She'd yet to see anything they didn't serve, but back to the topic at hand.

"I may have a biased opinion on the matter, haha. Holding knowledge with high regard in general is also part of the job. You may end up doing the same later, given you live long enough to do so." Morbid humor edged into the jovial air Wednesday put herself in like a matching set. Such was the type of woman she was.

[Jericho Galley]

The first sentence she said, that saying, really sailed home for Jericho. It was perfect for him, letting him imagine familiar things in his life. Tides, how pitiful it was sometimes to fight the waves, and always chasing the horizon.

"Uh, Professor, you aren't a crone. Or even old. Unless that's your Semblance, I mean. Ye look like you're in your thirties, tops. I'd wager your younger than my parents. But I hope I live at least as long as you." For Jericho, that was a real, honest hope. A wish upon a star, a dream, something he longed for that he wasn't sure was going to come true.

[Professor Wednesday Haptasnytrir]

"Flattering words, lad. When you've experienced as much of what life has to offer as I, what years you have hold more weight than you may think. Don't settle for "at least"; hope to live longer and fuller." Youth walking the Huntsmen career path came from all sorts of backgrounds carrying myriad burdens and desires. Wednesday viewed the kaleidoscope of microcosms funneling through Beacon Academy from their start to hearing of their exploits long after they had graduated. Hearing the ones that had decided to quiet or drop out to pursue other, more peaceful means of making a living was preferable to the deafening silence of those who continued on the path, but fell in the line of duty. Phantasms of unhealthy thought always stalked the borders of Wednesday's mind whispering if every new face she met would meet an unfortunate end. Looking at "Johnny Silverhand" elicited the possibility that the current holder's name might have ended the original's journey before it even started. He hadn't given any substantial clues supporting it, but Wednesday didn't know much about the young man standing before her to begin with. Looked as if he was becoming less on edge, which was a good sign for what she had next in store.

"You seem more at ease. I hope my words did right by you enough to do so. It takes a certain mind to consider becoming a Huntsman. An even more distinct breed that can gain entrance into one of the finest establishments there are at that. Stories of heroics and fairy tales oft entice and inspire for weal or woe of many, but for what reason could you have to be here, Silverhand?" His answer would be the crux of her investigation. Piercing blue bore into green more intensely than ever. The visage of a veteran of war gazed through him.

"Indulge your professor and share your intended goal in studying here at Beacon." It was not a question.

[Jericho Galley]

Jericho raised his eyebrows momentarily as he realized how he understood her weird words so well. She spoke like Blackhand and other grizzly old pirates that he knew. Did she have a histoy on the sea? He had heard something about Wednesday coming from an island or something. Maybe that's where she picked it up, or on the voyage over to Vale or anywhere else she went in her life.

Kraken's Beak!

His purpose for becoming a Huntsman? He knew this was no thoughtless question, she was intent on getting the answer. And not in the 'I'm super curious' way, but the 'I want to make sure you say the right thing' way. Her tone of voice could have been normal and her eyes boring into him would have given it away. Was it on some sort of test for being accepted? Was it on his profile or something? What had Johnny told him on their way over? He was sure they had talked about it, Jericho had been pretty curious about the Huntsmen that used the same powers that made the crew of The Corsair so dangerous. He had to get this right.

"Well..." Jericho looked down, tapping his foot slowly. The longer he took, the more suspicious the answer. He didn't remember why Johnny wanted to be a Huntsman, but he did remember why he was coming to Beacon and leaving Mistral behind. Why he was so desperate to leave that he bought passage on a pirate ship. Then he remembered what he had been told one late night while they were in their hammocks, talking late like people do.

Jericho let out a breath, looking like he was about to say something he didn't like to say. "Family life. I left Mistral because of my family and the pressure they were putting on me. I couldn't stay there any longer." He was using Johnny's exact wording, he even imitated his scoff. "Atlas seemed like a joke with it's rules and military outlook, Vacuo just seemed like a hellhole for someone from Mistral. Beacon was prestigious and in a better climate, more accepting of someone like me." He looked up at her- man was she tall for a woman- and into her eyes. It wouldn't be confrontational, not glaring back in defiance. But in that soft way he thought Johnny's eyes had looked sometimes before they had glazed over.

[Professor Wednesday Haptasnytrir]

'Hm, I suppose that is the best answer I will receive for now.' Wednesday held no expectation for "Silverhand's" answer to be anything other than unsatisfactory no matter what he might have said in response to her question. The likelihood of him being sincere was low from the beginning when they had yet to build any sort of rapport. If he had given a truthful answer, that may have surprised her. That hadn't the case here, or perhaps it was. There lay more to his response than a pure deception from what she could detect and the nature of it only made her earlier suspicions compound on top of what she discovered in this small interaction. Arising as an issue was the glaring lack of evidence Wednesday had to leverage in favor of either or and relying on intuition alone would doubtfully yield any results. Failing to find any outright incriminating slip-ups he may have betrayed, Wednesday defaulted to addressing the other issue the youth's reply had conjured.

"Silverhand. There is something I want to make clear for you going forward if you are to continue your stay here at Beacon Academy," The only outward sign of the professor's thoughts was the narrowed blue gaze as firm and unyielding as stone.

“Regardless of what motivation you've permitted to possess your will; when you are studying in these halls, when you are wielding your weapon; all your efforts: they are no longer as your own. The moment an applicant becomes accepted into Beacon is when they become more than their own person." At this, Wednesday's tone became as unwavering as her stare. "Beacon Academy is not a halfway home for runaways. It is an institution whose duty is to raise the next generation of Mankind's defenders. Abandon any notion that this is a charity, a place you can flee to from your troubles. You are no stranger to hardship, that much I gathered, but I sincerely doubt you will survive as you are. Here is no sanctuary that prevents austerity from finding you. Here is where you must not only confront them, but overcome. It is the only choice you will be afforded."

It was not her intention to belittle the life that the boy lived nor make light of the pressures that had burdened him. Malicious design did not inform Wednesday's words, but her role as an educator did compel her to present the reality many applicants often ignored. The reality that a path dedicated to safeguarding Mankind entailed and the ever-present dangers that so readily ended many before their time. Boiled down, it sounded as if she was telling the youth that he should have toughed it out back home. That a weakling such as him was not Huntsman material. Wednesday simply did not wish death upon a student who was going into things with a flimsy motivation. When their defender runs from adversity, what faith can the people place in them?

“However, “Johnny Silverhand” has proved himself of at least adequate ability, if lacking will, and I would not be foolish enough to dismiss such potential. In the end, your motivation will not matter if it can no longer sustain you. I make it no secret I find your reason wanting, but you have only just begun your training and have yet to know the duty you are to fulfill.”

Wednesday would at last break the stare she held sliding her Scroll closer to herself. A few taps across the screen bringing it back to life and pulling up the files she’d need for this next address. A softer eye returning once she looked back at him while offering the device.

“Many official and unofficial resources exist for the benefit of the student body. One being periodic group study sessions that I oversee at times. You can see there are a number of available slots you may choose from. Whether or not you decide to take advantage of what Beacon has to offer is solely at your discretion. I do encourage you to experience as much as there is if only to have an informed perspective on what it is you are choosing to undergo. There exist gentler roads to take that do not require you risking your life. If you remain steadfast, then I only hope that you are able to get a better idea of why you want to be a Huntsman.”

[Jericho Galley]

Not a home for runaways...
Not a palce to flee to...
Not a sanctuary from them from finding him...

That was everything he was using this place to be. Jericho had a tiny flash from his copying of Johnny to say how is parents were pressuring him to abandon the dream of becoming a Huntsman and that's why he left, but it all evaporated when the Professor spoke those words. He took a step back from her. He would have been convinced of her threatening him, somehow knowing who he was to Blackhand, if not for the next words that stopped his retreat.

A place to not only confront, but overcome. His only choice.

The way she said that Johnny Silverhand had proved himself, and not that he had proved himself... Was it the way she spoke? No, she knew. She flat out knew.

And then she recommended group study sessions to him. She wasn't kicking him out? And then she kept going.

He scoffed, a bit of his accent coming out. "Teach, ther' ain't any roads that don't risk me life right now. I know damn well why I'm here at this school, and ye know too. To be frank, this is the option least likely to kill me." He turned and started walking out the door. "The study sessions sound nice." He wasn't sure if he'd show up, but help studying sounded real nice. He mostly just needed to get out of there, get his breath back.

[Professor Wednesday Haptasnytrir]

"My door remains open... should there be anything you wish to talk about." Keeping the young man here any further wouldn't help either of them, and Wednesday had much to think over at the conclusion of this meeting. There would be opportunities in the future to interact with "Johnny Silverhand" at her leisure. In the meantime, all she could do was watch him leave.

"Do keep an eye on him for me, would you dears? There remains something amiss about him."

No one responded to her voice and nothing attempted to break the stretch of silence following after. No other person was present in the room besides the professor at that moment to have heard her speak. Despite that, Wednesday carried on as though there were another participant conversing with her in kind. Seconds ticked by of yet continued vacuum until Wednesday puffed out a sigh of annoyance.

"Haaaah... very well. I swear, I spoil you two far too much for your own good. Maybe I should consider instating a diet?" Panicked flapping of ebony wings were envisioned perfectly in her mind's eye and she didn't need her Semblance to see the frantic flight her children had taken. Tabs on the mystery student were taken care of, courtesy of little birdies. Despite what little she gained from the sparse interaction, Wednesday had formed a small frame to work with for future reference.

"To be frank..." By her father's flame-farewell was that something she would have appreciated from the beginning. That instance might have been the only time the lad used an honest word and it was when he revealed the vaguest hints about true self. Whoever he was. A mystery that loomed over her head as a shadow darkening her doorway long after he had left the lecture hall. Wednesday tossed the academy-issued Scroll to the side and paid it no more mind. She had idly hoped he'd take the proffered extracurricular classes so that she would have some fingerprints to run. Too bad. The voice recording would hardly be substantial enough to go off of and a picture would only work efficiently within the kingdoms if they had the databases to compare it to. Any where outside those borders in the outer settlements and she'd need boots on the ground to continue her search the old-fashioned way. A gross waste of time for idle curiosity. No, time would be her ally in this and reveal the kind of man this student was. Identity wouldn't be necessary then. Which, speaking of...

Seems a bit of the lad's truth escaped to the surface there. That just meant her words hit some exposed nerves. Shaking her head, Wednesday rose from her spot leaning against the table edge to stretch and relieve the bundling tension of the day, compounded from thinking on her latest puzzle. Seeking to confirm anything now without solid evidence would be foolhardy. If "Johnny Silverhand" ran now, that'd damn him and narrow her options in any case. Wednesday just had to remain patient and continue observing. A flash of grey Aura light her blue eye and her gaze swept past the tops of Beacon's highest points to settle on "Johnny Silverhand". Moon had sights on the young man. A blink and she returned to the empty classroom.

When next will they meet, she wondered.

Right. She should probably at least inform Honeydew about this development. Maybe she knew a thing or two about mistaken identity, ha.