Onward! To more powers of questionable morality! To learn how to... peek around in someone's head and... I don't know, mess with stuff. Though I've mostly accepted, at this point, that such things will be a large portion of my capabilities, it still leaves a sour taste in my mouth. I'll try to steer clear of overt mind control at the least. Something tells me that that oddly wouldn't really fit with the whole evil-whispery-madness theme anyway. Just a hunch.

Someone should really consider some decoration. The endless gray-ness here is driving me mad. At least hang a painting. Or an 'inspirational' quote from a pretentious alumni. Hells, portraits of former students would be better than this blandness. At least I'd have something to internally snort at.

Ooh, there's the next location. Only two more to go! I hate first days. They're like regular days, but they take longer. Mentally, that is. Anyway. I don't know what I was expecting, honestly, from a place dedicated to the mind. My mind at least defaulted to something like a councilor's or therapist's office. Not that I'd been in either of those, of course. No sir and-or madam, not me. Not this perfectly well adjusted individual. So well adjusted and healthy in fact that it'd be inconceivable to lie, really. Untruths could not come from such a mouth, surely.

Whatever I had been expecting, it was wrong. For as I stood outside the doorway and gazed within, eyebrows only slightly raised, I saw... a rather comfortable looking living room, actually. Like one might find at their own place of residence. Suspiciously like that, actually. The way the couches were positioned, how the chairs were angled, even the way the light from somewhere indeterminate poured in through half-drawn window blinds. It was all just so close, yet so off from home.

I couldn't exactly put a finger on what made it feel so strange. For all intents and purposes, it was a normal room that simply happened to be arranged similarly to another room. Not even really that similar, actually. The more I looked, the more differences I saw. But the faint familiarity, and thus, strangeness remained. The place was a haphazard mess of couches and chairs situated every which way, though they generally faced the middle of the large rectangular room. There were windows on the wall across from the door, brightly casting striped lines of light across half the area. To examine them, you'd find nothing interesting. Nothing at all even. A matte void, not black or white but the absence of. Though gazing at it felt, intrinsically, like looking at a pleasant day to go outside. Don't ask me how that works.

Perhaps the most surprising thing though -no, actually, it wasn't. What am I thinking?- were the visible people lounging about. There was no spacial distortion or unclear seating number -I counted twenty-four places visible from the recliner I claimed, with more out of view. Everything was clear and understandable. Which really ought to be the norm.

I considered, earnestly, what kind of person would teach such a class. And also, what kind of dramatic entrance they'd choose, seeing as that seemed almost mandatory here. I should work on mine. Practice rising from the darkness or appearing in a whirl of smoke. Consider acquiring a black coat to flap mysteriously in the wind.

Theatrics aside, this was taking rather long, ccomparatively. Compared to the last five-ish hours at least. Not a large sample size but relatively signifigant. As I stared idly off into the middle distance, brooding melodramatically on my future, fanciful daydreams filled my head.

I looked at a chair across from me and imagined a hypothetical person who might sit in it. It was high backed and a deep purple color, with those little metal studs you sometimes see on the arms and around the edges. I though that perhaps a woman might enjoy to be seated there. Small-ish and portly, and with curled blond hair that sat messily bunned, wayward strands erupting every which way. She'd have brown eyes and a polite smile like the one you show to a stranger or a coworker who you don't particularly like but maintain relations with. She'd have a round face covered in freckles and short, stubby proportions.

The theoretical woman would probably be draped in a fluffy, lavender colored almost-just-a-bath-robe that pooled excessively on the ground infront of the chair. It wasn't unlikely either that she'd be holding a steaming mug of what could have been an energizing brown drink. Or that she'd wave a hand in greeting and kindly ask your name with a warmth that'd make a campfire blush.

"Hello dear. Who might you be?"

Though it was odd that my third eye would vibrate and rattle so violently at just the thought. Idly, I triggered Commune, but only partly. A brief glance was taken at its mana structure and I snorted. Absolutely absurd. I opened the channel just enough for the eldritch monstrosity to see through, but not enough for me to hear it's voice more than errant, annoying whispers that slipped through the cracks. It bucked and raged against the confinement, slipping metaphtorical tendrils of thought through to stab at my mind. I slammed it closed for a few seconds, then opened it again. It stilled. Something tells me I'll need to have a talk with the thing soon. Not looking forward to that.

I belatedly realized I'd been so rudely ignoring... who exactly? Why is the realization 'belated' that I haven't responded to an imaginary- oh. Honestly. How can I possibly be that stupid? Shame upon my family for that one. Gods. I'm almost embarrassed. Almost.

"This is oddly individual," I said, to what was either the literall mental instructor or a figment of my imagination. Hopefully the first. "One Allister Rose, present and accounted for."

"Rose." She mused, drawing out the word. She had a drawling, southern accent that stretched out the vowels and rolled languidly off the tongue. "Where have I heard that before? I could swear I..." She squinted intensely in my direction, a piercing gaze that made me minorly uncomfortable. I shifted slightly in the seat. A sudden surprise lit up her face, a raising of the eyebrows and a raised hand to cover the 'oh' shape of her mouth.

"Oh dear. Why, you're connected to him, I can feel it on you. And so deeply entrenched, too. Must have been a horribly deep connection. My, the resemblance is almost uncanny once you see it. The eyes especially. So striking. Why I could-" She cleared her throat. A faint blush spread over her cheeks. "Anyway. That isn't what we're here for at all, is it?" It most certainly is not! My first impression of this woman was not a particularly good one. Not that I let it show.

"Enough about me," I interjected rather forcefully, breaking the stiffening silence between us. "Why don't you introduce yourself?" I tried to keep a respectful tone as, well, she was still technically a teacher. I was mostly successful, but it came out a bit... indignant? I don't know, forceful. If you’ll excuse the repetition. There really aren't enough words to describe tone. You understand the idea though, I'm sure.

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"Yes. Well. Uhm..." She flustered, fanning daintily at her quickly reddening face. She cleared her throat again, -she might want to get that checked or something, sounds like she might have an issue- breathed deep, and a placid calm overtook her. Her expression stilled and her tone flattened, an emotionless droning sound. Her speech sounded almost rehearsed.

"Sorry. My name is Mrs. Merriweather. I find individual work to be more effective and efficient than mass teaching. As such, I've given a mental construct to each student who attends this course. Also, you've got an impressively fortified mind for your Level, my compliments. This thoughtform is a perfect copy of myself and will remember any interaction you engage in with it. I've temporarily turned off the emotional bits of this one to avoid complications. Do you have any questions at the moment?"

As a matter of fact, I didn't. At least for the moment, I found it explained sufficiently clearly. I communicated such, to the short nod of the emotionless woman. From the depths of her voluminous robe, she pulled a book. A booklet, more accurately. A thin stack of pink pages bound together at an edge. I took it from her outstretched hand and examined it closely. The front bore a crude -though better than any I could do, surely- stick-figure drawing of a person seated, legs crossed, with wavy lines emanating from the head. The arms were theatrically pressed to where the temples would be.

I looked back up as Merriweather spoke once more. This time, not with a complete lack of emotion. A hint of that 'happy old woman' tone was seeping gradually back into her voice as she spoke.

"That right there is the most basic knowledge of mental workings. How to properly open up your mind. I expect every member of this class to have managed it by week's end. After that, I can begin to branch off into more specific studies with each of you. I'll leave you be now, so as to give you a chance to read over it or get a head-start. Unless you'd rather I stay?" She inquired, eyebrows raised and head tilted slightly forward and to the side in that way that people do when they presume to already know the answer to a question.

I shook my head. Between one moment and the next, she was gone like my hopes and dreams after the Awakening. Flipping through the pamphlet, I was only minorly disappointed. The thirty or so pages mostly detailed various styles of sitting, breathing and contemplating the meaning of life. Also called meditation. According to the foreward, one had to make their brain entirely and utterly blank or something in order to perceive someone else's mind. Unless you were me, because I already had a Skill for exactly that. Which wasn't particularly uncommon among those who did these kind of things, but some chose not to wait until they naturally acquired the Skill. In which case they'd have to go through this annoying process.

That out of the way, all I had to do was... touch another's mind. It had to be a natural born, souled and autonomous creature, and I just had to touch it. Any way should work, the more 'intimate' the better. Why make it sound like that? But, I was reasonably confident in doing so. There was, as far as I could see, only one glaring problem. A decently sizable one though.

That being, who in all the hells mind was I supposed to 'touch'? How would I even go about that? 'Hi there, would you mind if I mess around with your thoughts a bit? I won't break anything, I promise.' Ridiculous. Also, what does that even mean? How do you touch a thought? Is it a Skill? Would any mental Skill work? For some inexplicable reason, I felt that exposing anyone to any of my current powers wouldn't have a very positive result. Wait, no, there it is in the papers. Apparently, System granted Skills -at least for a Warlock- don't work because I'm not the one doing it, nor is it being done with my own power. Makes some sense, frustrating as it is. I should probably finish reading those before I start jumping to conclusions.

Which I did, thoroughly, over the next several minutes. I carefully examined each -well, most, honestly- of the pages, absorbing all the information contained therein. But apparently, because it was mental, knowing how to do the thing would change the outcome. Which meant 'they' couldn't tell me anything useful. For my own long term benefit. Great. Just wonderful.

Well, nothing to do about it now, which is becoming a disturbingly common theme. Then again, it really hasn't been very long being here, so it probably isn't that big an issue. Unoccupied, I cast my gaze about the room. A few of the people I could see held identical booklets. The majority had discarded them in favor of sitting there, unmoving. Plebians. Occasionally some would look up at a seat somewhere near them and nod or mouth some words. I assumed whatever they said was muffled for the purpose of a calm environment. Should I learn to read lips? No, not worth it. And I'm sure I'll have better ways of spying on people in the future, when it actually matters. One or two of them, like myself, seemed to have no need for the exercise. That or they just didn't want to do it right now.

I toggled on my newest Skill -Seek Through Shadow, if you've forgotten- and raised my eyebrows in surprise. Wisps of thin purple vapor curled in the air, wafted out from nowhere. They expanded and, simultaneously, condensed. Became opaque and dark. Multitudes of thin tendrils spiraled down, twisted and wove around themselves. Color bled into the forming silhouettes. A faint line swirled off of each of them, fading away after a short distance.

One of the Merriweather's waved at me briefly. Winked too, in a moment where the accompanying student wasn't looking. Ugh. I really don't like this woman so far. She wierds me out severely.

Anyway. I focused intently on one of the thought-tendrils that was somewhat near me. The person it belonged to was deep in meditation. Or so I imagined, from the forcibly relaxed face and the way their... arms? No, that's already a limb. Lines? Streams? Whatever I decided to call them, were sprawled out, drifting slowly and ponderously in long arcs through the air.

I waited until one was reasonably close. I looked cautiously to the left and the right. Nobody seemed to be paying attention. Ever so carefully, I leaned forward, out of my chair a bit and... I poked it.

Well, more accurately I waved my hand through it. It bent, distorted around my arm as it passed through. There was a bit of physical resistance. Nothing tangible really, almost like moving against a strong breeze, or pushing slightly on a rubber band. Yet, somehow simply less than either of those things. It was a sort of friction you could feel, but that didn't actually hinder motion at all. It flexed only a little, perhaps a hand's width, before it broke apart into purple smoke and reformed in its orginal position. I swiped again, to the same result. I tried to slowly grasp it, only for it to immediately burst and shift away. Coincidentally out of my convenient reach. Because of course it couldn't be that easy.

I considered casting a spell. Just a small Feast'. But that probably wouldn't go over well, so I discard the idea. Again looking cautiously for observers, I trigger Evocation. My shadow extends along the floor, but I command it to stay close to the shade beneath chairs and out of line from the windows. My mana drops precipitously. This'll have to be quick. The dark mass rushes across the distance and I watch as it climbs frustratingly slowly up the back of my test subject's chair. The lighting is indistinct, and its outline is hazy, but I can still manage to make it out. It reaches up to grasp one of the vaporous tendrils where the ephemeral thing touches the chair -as the shadow itself cannot leave the surface, and the smoky thing casts no silhouette. With two long and emaciated fingers it pinches the thing. Or tries to. To no effect, as it passes through without contact. In a last ditch effort, I throw the remainder of my mana -ten or so- into the Skill and try again. And for a short, glorious moment I see it. The shadow's hand does not move, stopped for just a second by the smoky tail which wobbles minorly away from the impact. Success! At... something, I guess. What was the point of this again? I don't feel any more open. Ah well, it was entertaining at least.