The door slides open and reveals an exhausted man, thin and pale- if he weren't standing before them in the flesh, they'd think he was a ghost long past.
"How did- Haaaaah. How did you all get up here!?"
He yells out, his mouth growing aghast every passing moment. He might actually be a ghost, thinks some of the students. Stifled laughs and curious looks fill the room, along with chairs squeaking as each of them fights to get a closer or better angle of the arriving man. The class falls silent, only watching the man weakly enter the room.
It's Okirk and his buddy's that are first to step up to help the teacher, lending him their arm and smiling all the while, giving a quick leer over to Melody that just screams,
"We'll get on his good side, you're sure to fail this class that way when we tell him everything you do!"
Melody irks, making an annoyed and slightly fearful face. Melody is a good enough student, but she has not and will not put up with anyone's nastier attitudes- which leads to her thinking that she really could get in trouble with the teacher if they got on his good side. She twists a pencil nervously atop her desk.
"Here, Mr.-"
Okirk stops himself, realizing the man has yet to introduce himself. Melody shares in their confused whisking about, her eyes scan the faces of Okirk, his friends, and of the small man.
"Mister."
The boys play it off like they meant to stop at just that, though their quick gazes to one another probably give them away.
"Aheh, it's not Mr. Mister."
A grunt of effort gets the teacher on his feet, and he dusts himself off, nodding to the boys.
"Thanks."
He smiles at them, weakly. The man lifts his hand and offers the way back to the empty seats at the back of the class. Shuffling his thin arm back to his side, his long silver hair dances around his elbow then comes to a stop.
"Now, you were saying something about our history? Care to share with everyone Mr.- "
The teacher lays his hand out to the helpful boys' leader. Picking up on their words from before, the teacher wishes to hear the rest of his explanation.
"Oh- uh… Rieve, O-Okirk Rieve."
Okirk stumbles through introducing himself, quickly standing and bowing to their teacher, biting his lip as his face is hidden looking to the floor.
"Yes, Mr. Rieve. "
The man's eyes squint slightly as he says this, recognizing the name too well. The teacher keeps his hand pointed outward and flat as if waiting to be handed the answer to his question.
"Please, if you would continue with what you were saying, I believe it was about the events and circumstances surrounding the beginning of the War?"
The teacher now stands leaned forward at his podium, attentively keeping his eyes on Okirk, challenging him. Everyone in the room can feel this and Melody sneers.
"Er- I think um- Y-y-you're the teacher right? Why can't you tell us?"
Okirk is barely able to meet eyes with him as the teacher's intensity flares at the head of the room, A subtle wave of intensity flows off of the man; no Blessed power is released, only the natural ability that positions of authority have over others.
"Yes, how about that."
The teacher pulls himself up from his heavy lean, straightening out his shoulders and back.
"How about we let the facts of history be taught by a real teacher of Masquerade, then by the ravings of your mad father, Orik Harrow-Rieve."
The teacher spits Okirk's father's name, a history between the two is implied heavily. Highlighted by the fact that now the teacher's Blessing is activated from a heightened emotional state. This new teacher of theirs seems to really not like Okirk's father.
A small glowing ringlet of surging energy hovers above the Teacher's squared shoulder. The silent pressure hanging in the air could pop eardrums, or perhaps it's the slow rumbling hum of his Halo manifesting. Letting it resonate, this man allows the power to flow freely throughout the room, letting everyone feel its warm but dangerous power. A sense of harm slightly tickles the back of everyone's neck.
"Woah-"
"Is that-"
The few students who want to sit up and get closer to see the powerful showcase are promptly sat back down by the sensation. Scrambling lightly in their seats as their hairs rise in anxious curiosity.
Melody stews in astonishment, watching on as the classroom waves in poured energy, her own Halo begins to resonate. Hers is like a tiny matchstick to the comparable inferno of this man's Halo, blaring brightly and heated.
"His blessing… he's… He's like me."
Melody thinks to herself, amazed at seeing another Halo blessing and at how powerful it feels to the senses.
"It's supposed to be incredibly rare… Having a Halo as a Blessed manifestation, that's what Father told me."
Melody reasons her awe, explaining the true wondrous event that's happening. Among the types of Blessed traits that humans receive, the Halo is a far rarer one. Whereas the ability to hear thoughts is as common as eyes and ears, the Halo manifestation is only ever found in short numbers. Melody can feel her own Halo tremble at the whisk of air passing throughout the room.
Letting his power drown the class, the man begins to let up on his hold, slowing the flow of his Blessed energy. The students sitting uncomfortably can now fix themselves upright. The man's eyes that were lit in a fiery yellow now shade softer, slowly returning to his regular pearlescent blue.
Looking around the room, it looks like he's not staring at any of the students, but through them. Through Melody, Okirk, and his goons, through Emily, and everyone else sat in the class.
"Okay."
His words sting like an order, but it could be understood as him asking the class if it was alright to continue, unimpeded. Done with hearing about the thoughts and musings of people living in the past, the teacher before them claps his hands and wipes away the moment behind him. The Halo floating above his shoulder slowly lowers, connecting back to his dress shirt, then sinking deeper within. His shoulder finally glows and the light disperses. He lets the classroom breathe before he begins.
"The War!"
He raises his hands, one hand on each side of his head, held out, and slightly gripped.
"The War between the Demons and the Angels…"
Pushing one hand forward, then the other to showcase which was which. The Demons for his right, and the Angels as his left.
"When they rose, and they fell,"
He posits, raising and lowering each hand respectively.
"-several things happened to the unknowing and woefully unprepared humans."
Continued in PART THIRTEEN…