#daskalosstart

[hiercphant]

open  starter​​​​​​​  ⇢​​​​​​​  𝖆𝖓𝖞𝖔𝖓𝖊.

𝓼𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 . . .  the  library.

𝐔𝐍𝐖𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐆𝐀𝐙𝐄  𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐒  𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌  𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓  𝐓𝐎  𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓  in  search  of  the  name  in  question.  he  squints  as  he  gets  closer  &  closer  in  alphabetical  order  —  anderson,  augustine,  avery  —  until,  finally,  he  spots  it.   '  a  complete  re-translation  of  iphigenia  at  aulis,  '   authored  by  the  one  &  only  francisco  avila  himself — & the  last  copy,  evidently,  considering  the  rest  of  the  shelf  is  empty.  he  reaches  for  it,  long  fingers  just  barely  curling  around  the  weathered  spine  when. . . suddenly,  he's  intercepted  by  another  hand  reaching  for  it,  too.  bloodshot  eyes  turn  down  to  the  intruder  to  his  left,  narrowing  in  a  silent,  but  half-hearted  threat.  ❝   hands  off,  ❞  he  warns,  lips  curling  up  into  a  wolfish  sneer.  ❝   last  copy's  mine.  ❞   as  if  he's  not  rich  enough  to  buy his own copy — or, honestly,  the  entire  inventory  of  the  daskalos campus  bookstore  ten  times  over. 

[ataulis]

open  starter​​​​​​​  ⇢​​​​​​​  𝖆𝖓𝖞𝖔𝖓𝖊.

𝓼𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 . . .  daskalos  bookstore.

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒  𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃  𝐈𝐒  𝐍𝐎𝐓  𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐓  𝐅𝐎𝐑  𝐇𝐄𝐑,  or  at  least  for  people  of  her  stature  —  she’s  been  at  it  for  ten  whole  minutes  now,  reaching  high  above  her  head  for  the  book  in  question.  if  she  were  more  susceptible  to  spiteful  thoughts,  she  would’ve  cursed  avila  for  having  an  𝓐  name  &  causing  his  works  to reside  on  the  top  shelf,  but  she  adores  the  man  far  too  much  for  that,  &  besides  —  the  first  assignment  of  the  year  is  her  namesake,  for  god’s  sakes.  it  would  feel  like  utter  betrayal  to  be  even  the  slightest  bit  annoyed.  she’s  tried  it  all  —  jumping  up,  using  another  book  to  knock  it  off  the  shelf  —  &  now  she’s  resorted  to  one  of  the  more  precarious  options:  standing  on  top  of  a  stack  of  books  on  her  tiptoes,  lip  caught  between  her  teeth  as  she  reaches  &  reaches. . . until  the  stack  crumbles  from  underneath  her,  &  before  she  knows  it,  her  ass  meets  the  outdated,  scratchy  carpet.  with  a  wince,  she  grumbles  &  pulls  herself  up,  huffing  to  blow  the  strands  of  hair  that  have  fallen  from  their  ribbons  &  into  her  face.  footsteps  to  her  left  draw  her  attention,  &  she  turns  to  her  new  company,  smiling  sheepishly.    “  do  you,  uh  …  ”    she  turns  her  gaze  up  to  the  book,  still  sitting  smugly  upon  its  shelf.    “  do  you  mind  ?  ”

[sylv6n]

eye   contact   is   a   powerful   thing.   some   doubted   her   abilities,   but   she'd   already   stared   down   this   loser   long   enough   to   ditch   his   date   and   bring   her   a   drink.   sending   him   away   now   that   she   got   what   she   wanted,   though?   proving   a   mammoth   task.   she   scanned   the   small   crowd   around   them   for   someone,   anyone.   this   was   a   banquet   of   her   entire   school,   her   closest   peers,   and   yet   none   of   those   fuckers   were   there   when   she   needed   them.   she   was   so   irritated   she   didn't   realize   the   loser   actually   spoke.

and   asked   her   what   her   name   was.   she   blinked,   if   only   to   give   herself   more   time   to   calm   down.   her   name?   he   didn't   know   her   name?   she   opened   her   mouth   only   to   close   it   again,   chewing   on   the   slight to her family, her entire existence.   the   only   thoughts   coursing   through   her   very   expensive   and   famous   head,   was   what   the   fuck?   and   oh   god,   please   god,   someone   save   me.

open starter, kitron : post - dinner

[caseoficarus]

Open starter for anyone. Location: Hedone

Ethan was drawn to the neon glow of Hedone like a moth to a flame. The club quickly became one of Ethan's haunts when he moved to Greece and it remained a mainstay in his rotation in the three years he'd called this place home. Tonight, he was beckoned to the club because frankly there was nothing going on on campus. Just because others were staying in and studying for upcoming tests didn't mean Ethan would be doing the same.

He had been at Hedone for an hour or so with a couple of drinks under his belt and was in need of a refresher as he approached the bar. Ethan pulled out his phone and checked the time. It was a minute past midnight and he smiled. Nice. Ethan turned the person closest to him and gave them a little nudge. "Hey, next drink's on me," he offered. "I'm celebrating the Calculus test I'll be failing tomorrow." Ethan wasn't always so generous but when drinks were half off he couldn't resist.

[hiercphant]

open  starter​​​​​​​  ⇢​​​​​​​  𝖆𝖓𝖞𝖔𝖓𝖊.

𝓼𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 . . .  the  back  deck,  post-dinner.

𝐈𝐓'𝐒  𝐀  𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐔𝐋  𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆  —  the  perfect  balance  between  warm  &  not  too  humid,  the  sun  just  beginning  to  set  as  everybody  rises  from  their  seats  to  take  advantage  of  the  bar  &  the  beach. milo's  already  made  his  rounds  &  procured  himself  a  gin  &  tonic,  &  is  halfway  through  it  by  the  time  his  rugby  teammates  swarm  him,  trying  to  corral  him  into  stripping  his  suit  &  going  into  the  water.  two  of  them  have  already  taken  off  down  the  beach,  hooting  &  hollering  &  shedding  layers  as  they  go,  &  milo  waves  them  off  to  the  best  of  his  ability  —  but  they  keep  taunting  him  even  as  they  dive  into  the  ocean.  through  the  distant  chorus  of  '  come  on,  milo  !  '  and  '  just  do  it  !  ',  milo  turns  to  the  nearest  bystander,  an  overwhelmed  grin  on  his  face.    ❛  would  you  go  with  me?  ❜    he  blurts  out  through  a  sheepish  laugh.    ❛  into  the  water?  ❜

[sylv6n]

“and   then,   the   guy   goes–”   kit   pauses,   exaggeratedly   acting   out   the   doorman   flipping   through   pages   of   student’s   names.   “huh, you're   not   on   the   list,   buddy.”   he   shook   his   head   incredulously,   mouth   open   as   wide   as   he   can.   “i   fucking   work   here!   i   know   the   doorman   that   said   that   to   me!”   he   groaned,   pulling   and   pushing   at   the   collar   of   the   turtleneck   shirt   he   wore.   

“i   bet   you   didn’t   have   any   trouble   getting   in,   you   look   like   royalty!”   he   nudged   the   student   next   to   him,   his   eyes   rolling.   but   his   tone   was   good-natured,   and   the   chuckling   that   spaced   his   every   syllable   harshed   his   annoyance.   “is   this   like,   prada,   or   something?   i   borrowed   this   from   my   co-worker,   but   i   think   it’s   like,   a   size   too   small.”

open starter, kitron : post - dinner

[hiercphant]

open  starter​​​​​​​  ⇢​​​​​​​  𝖆𝖓𝖞𝖔𝖓𝖊.

𝓼𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 . . .  the  rooftop  bar,  post-dinner.

𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓  𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄  𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓  𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑,  &  the  year  before  that,  daskalos  had  gone  above  &  beyond  with  the  banquet  arrangements  —  the  room  decorated  to  hell  &  back,  everyone  dressed  to  the  nines,  the  menu  curated  by  michelin  star  chefs.  he  could  be  having  a  worse  time,  he  supposes;  this  year's  cohort  seems  nice  enough,  with  a  handful  of  new  faces.  some  of  them  seem  like  they're  going  to  make  him  want  to  claw  his  own  eyes  out,  but  he'll  wait  for  the  first  dionysia  meeting  to  make  a  final  judgment  call.  for  now,  he's  resolved  to  taking  advantage  of  the  open  bar,  &  he  leans  his  weight  on  his  elbows  where  they  rest  on  a  railing,  looking  out  over  the  water.  a  presence  to  his  left  draws  his  attention,  &  his  eyes  flick  to  his  newfound  (  unwarranted  )  company,  raising  an  eyebrow in  silent  acknowledgement.  he  turns  around,  leaning  his  hips  back  against  the  railing  &  glancing  across  the  rooftop  to  the  crowd  forming  near  the  bar.  he'd  been  one  of  the  first  to  leave  the  table  in  favor  of  taking  advantage  of  the  open  bar  —  a  whiskey  sour already  in  hand,  which  he  sips  casually  as  his  lips  curl  into  an  amused  smile.  ❛  you  drinking  tonight?  they're  paying  for  it.  you  might  as  well.  ❜

[silentseers]

( 🦢 )　╱　 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐄 𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋　 ;​​

   .   𓈊   — 　OPEN​​ 　&.　kitron outdoor patio post dinner !

“　𝘸𝘦'𝘷𝘦　𝘯𝘰𝘵　𝘺𝘦𝘵　𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵　𝘢𝘭𝘭　𝘰𝘶𝘳　𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘴  　     𖥔 　　𝘵𝘩𝘦　𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘴　𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭　𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺　𝘪𝘯　𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴　.　”

the grandeur of a banquet is not something unaccustomed to eira, a girl who had grown up in the world of glistening galas and the charade of fancy dress. such things seem to her merely trivial now and almost boring. yet in the sea of her experiences, something about her debut into the daskalos society appeared so much more daunting, almost suffocating. sitting idly in her seat, amidst her mentorship cohort, eira feels as if eyes are following her. many pairs of eyes in fact, blinking in the back of her mind, piercing into her and revealing the secrets she tries so hard to consume. they taunt her, her demons. she has long since learnt to hide them behind the facade of her charming smile, eyes bright and innocent but in her own head she can hear them muttering. don’t let them sense your insecurity, your fear. they will eat you alive.

she paints an image of confidence, of casual charisma that makes her appear the shining star she ought to be seen as she forces herself to stand. her food is barely touched by the time she steps out of her seat, slipping out into the crowds of faceless students who gather towards the venue's outdoor patio to observe the view. too many unfamiliar figures, too many impressionable people. eira knows must act the part they want of her so as to be adored, in other words dance to their tune like a puppet pulled by the strings of an invisible master. and so a champagne flute is in her hand before she consciously realises it and she settles into leaning out upon the railing overlooking the sea. her head turns to her nearest companion, a lone person standing standing idly beside her, whose eyes are watching the same sunset. "it's pretty isn't it? like a work of art," she comments casually, her tone its usual wistfulness. "if i had any talent for painting i'd be memorising this view right now. it's almost magical, wouldn't you agree?"