Chapter 7 #2
“Look.” He holds his hand up to show me the tissues he’s holding.
He presses it to my forehead, then swaps the messy ones out with an efficiency, almost like we’ve done this a hundred times before.
“At least this way, we get all the bs done in one fell swoop. Exactly like no one is talking about last night’s alarm because you showed up.
By dinner, everyone will be gossiping over the next drama. ”
“There is that,” I squeak out, wincing when he wipes a little too hard.
He’s grinning and looking a little less reserved at the same time. I curl my eyebrow up in question.
“Can you even say the word?”
I shake my head.
“Spell it?”
I shake my head again.
“But you’re a girl. What happens when, you know, the moon calls?”
“I manage. And, buddy, we’re not talking about my cycles. No matter how close we get.”
He holds his finger up and disappears again, reappearing with a small butterfly Band-Aid. “So, your black eye is even more epic than it was before. Do you think we should go to the health clinic?”
“No chance. You’ve done what they would have, anyway.”
“True. So, want to grab some food while everyone is busy watching the fight?”
As soon as I agree, Orion takes us to the back corner of the dining hall where there are a few empty tables.
But from here I can also see what I didn’t get the chance to before; the hall is segmented by color.
There are a couple of places where the five colors are more mixed than others, but it’s pretty obvious that despite the suggestion of Thales being inclusive, the dining hall is not a representation of that.
I follow what Orion does and get the chance to see that the seating setup might be based on student preference or supe type.
The faculty isn’t doing anything to reinforce Master Maddern’s suggestion that all students are equal.
The servery is color-coordinated, and walking toward it, the difference between the other colors and the blue area is as evident as day and night.
“What’s with…?” I ask, flicking my head.
Orion doesn’t miss the question or what I’m asking. He gives me a roll of his eyes as an answer. “We can talk about that later. Let’s get what we can before the good stuff goes.”
Whereas the other students have their options laid out like an expensive buffet, and their fresh meals get constantly refreshed by the kitchen staff, the blue section appears to get what they don’t eat.
There’s no subtlety in how it happens, either.
I watch as a server puts down a fresh plate of pastries on a silver platter from the gold section before they walk over and empty the remains of the plate they were swapping into an already half-full tray in a bain-marie.
I’m glad they’re not wasting food, but the rotation from one area to the other is a strange waste of effort that makes little sense to me.
Orion stands behind me as we wait in line with the other students, and I turn to face him. I get that it’s rude not to introduce myself to the other students, but I need a coffee and something to eat.
Grabbing a tray, the server gives me a little of everything without asking what I’d like, which is fine. I’m hungry and not picky. At the end of the servery, there’s a drink stand, and I pick up one of the take-out coffees, waiting for Orion as he chooses what he wants.
By the time we’re taking a seat at our table, the hall is clearing. I pull out my tablet to check the time.
“Now, the other exciting thing about Thales, besides the students attending, is that we’re all expected to do combat training. And most try to get in an extra session here or there.”
“Really? Combat training? What on earth for, or maybe it’s against who?”
“You’ll catch on quick, Maya. Everything at Thales is about preparing us.”
“What for, though?”
“Clearly, humans are an issue. They like to fight and are always trying to assert their dominance.”
Orion’s not wrong in that regard. The enforcers back home were a big part of the problem. They all had the same asshole personality—low agreeableness, high aggression, and severe self-centeredness.
While he explains, I keep eating my pile of scrambled egg whites, adding seasoning because it’s bland and so white they reflect light.
“But each segment of our supe community are hellbent on holding their own position of power, so each faction trains hard in case a war between the five breaks out.”
“They’ve been to war before?”
“We’re talking about top-tier predators.
Someone must hold the ultimate position of power, and there’s always someone else who’s not happy that faction is in power.
There’s also a group in our world, made up of bigots and prophets who believe we should live like they did years ago, where their voice is the one our world should listen to.
The Legion have been around since the start of time.
They are archaic in thought and practice, and everyone spends a lot of time battling them.
“And yes, I’m skimming over details and significance, but we don’t have all day.
We also need to talk about how each faction in Quin-state has its own internal fights for dominance, and all of them are looking for the key to unlimited power while pretending to be collectively working toward battling the Legion.
Most days in our world are a shit show for any or all those reasons.
Whoever holds the most power holds control over all beings.
In shifters, that’s the position of Alpha, the celestials want to achieve either Archangel or Heavenly Appointed status, the vampires call theirs Elders, demons go by a monarchy, so the King is the highest, the witches and druids share the title of High Priest or Priestess. ”
I stare at him, listening, while also fighting the sense that I’m never going to get a handle on this. Since arriving at Thales, I’ve been feeling like I’m standing in quicksand.
Orion ignores my bewildered gaze. “Don’t worry about trying to remember everything, especially who’s the most powerful at Thales in their designation set because they’ll remind you as often as they can. Supes aren’t exactly known for being subtle.”
“I’m seeing that,” I mumble.
He grins at me, and I wonder if I missed something he said.
“What?” I ask when he keeps looking at me expectantly.