Late new comer

For what is meant to be a prestigious school for occult families. From the outside looking in, it is just another muti-layered school maybe even university grounds. The place is all ages boarding school for those that can afford it. In matching that reputation is the academic level of grades average is high comparing against the state county levels and not really budgeted by the government unlike a state school. The class student numbers are a quarter to the the state average.

Its overall feel is this creepy vibe for sure, even without the gift of being able to see demons, angels and undertakers. The fencing has no love with waist high weeds and ant mounds. The stale air of the distant buildings beyond the fence looked aged and worn out by natural disasters over the years. There is holes in the fencing where wild creatures have climbed it often. The hornet nest on the exit gate is a neat touch for sure.

The driver wouldn't stop talking about school grounds in how the place was a slave plantation for sugar cane before sold to the government (which was founded as one, of course was after slavery was abolished). It is pretty self contained grounds - complete with small little church in the back far corner of the campus. That church was the only neat thing to veiw from this angle into the school grounds. if anything the church was only seen at a glimpse due to the angle the car was turning to reach the school gates. She looked on with dread and the driver noticed it. He took the wrong turn soon after that. He sheepishly lied, in saying that some raccoon was in the road and he didn't want to run it over. He should have said armadillo, she would have believed him better. Ms Haynes was being silent about the whole thing. She was likely nervous too, as she sighed too about not going in so soon.

The community off grounds was Colombian and Greek. Leaning a more Spanish Mediterranean vib while keeping the strict clean order of organised Greek architecture. Could be mistaken for Mexican for the uncultured types. It's anything but Mexican. The many orthodox Greek temples on the way and the talk of a Greek festival says plenty for the sort of character this town area charms. The place was rich of the recent historical turning points.

From the frist built wood shed school being chained down to the floor to keep it blown away by hurricanes. These was slave square by the bay which was where slaves were brought in by boat and sold off the stone pillar. There was the hotel that was once the mayor's house, the largest construction for its day. A side note had to be the gator farm which is biggest sale by skin trade for the fashion industry. Many tourists features with Greek and Colombia restaurants is a short walk away. There was even a ghost tour all year around for the mass grave site at the town central market. You to can be reading gravestones while buying your vegetables. Joke aside, the place has a business vibe all later morning through to the late evening. There is a slight back feel of being watched everywhere, even the moscia wall arts seem to stare into you dispite being sun leached of its vivid splendour. The driver was so into his history that he drove around showing the architectural values that the melting pot of people made this town into.

Once everything was seen, the little girl did feel slightly better even if it is late getting through the gates. However she is quiet thankful for this kindness. It is her last bit of freedom before being the low end of the school social ladder. It helped mature the sort of ideas that some of the local students might have as customs. There is a slight spark of maturity about her, appreciated the sort of side tour for the value of information and help of her nerve.

Getting closer now, and given it was between last bell rings. The grounds was alive of students moving to next class. There is a colour based uniform but it wasn't strict uniform like British schools have. What you wear doesn't matter, its about fitting in the colour scheme. Black, brown, and some wine reds. Muted autumn colours. No bright colours that stood out. She wasn't currently wearing anything bright to stand out. One less thing to worry about.

The main three buildings she can see from this point down the drive was clearly the converted buildings from when it was a plantation. One building was a sort of barn conversion which was likely to store house, rusted repatched tin shelling that must have had unseeable modern improvements. At a guess these could be some of the class rooms. There was a long one looks like the student dorms, it was likely the processing area for the cane to be turned into sugar. The statement building of the three looks like the owners house. It been turned into staff accommodation and some office facilities. These three buildings are all you can see driving in, the long road in was certainly where the cane was growing. The wild grown grass can't hide the once farmed tread lines. It was easy to picture the past, the merge of heat waves echos spirit shadows of folks working on these fields. Such things disappear with the closer they are in. The scale of the three buildings were quiet impressive for being a sugar cane plantation and factory. The dots of students were now clearly the older years in higher grade education that moved around freely. Maybe there is still a slight chance of younger grade students needing uniform.

She is helped out of the car seat, a legal requirement for someone so young of her size. She doesn't take Ms Haynes hand but instead held her backpack tighter, in comfort of knowing her preferred doll was safe beside the questionable mysterious bounded book that made its home with her. She only looked down on the ground for the moment see how she placed her feet down back on the ground from being lifted. A chill from no breeze passes her as she returns to look up from there.

Staring directly into that odd fellow from her older self memories. She has even tilted confused if he was looking at her to read her soul or something. The undertakers always have a soul gaze when encountering living, regardless of the living folks being aware or not.

"Miss." She tilted partly to the driver in being exclusive of listening to him too, "Your other bag." She nods and softly avoids other folks standing around. In having a closer look at the drive, he was a demon in mock glamour. She did sort of tilt confused but not say anything to mention it.

"In spite of not running over undead spirits to being slightly late. Thank you for the little town tour. Its lovely to enjoy the sort slice of history that the area shows." She has a tight smile to add in her changed head tilt, "Good luck. If luck matters to someone like you."

The drive smirks in accepting that was her way of knowing his a demon. He had plenty of children over the years give different impressions. She was at least refreshing.

"Same to you. If luck matters." He continues her way of twisting things, "You would happen to know my name would you?"

"I don't have to. I just know what section of books your name sits in." The slight sneer of him finding that reply not comfortable from a little girl, "Besides. Thankful your not like your brother. His in the low section of the heaven saga. You could say your current job title is higher advantage then his." He slams the boot closed and left displeased for sure. Speeds off without second glances. It's a good thing. Her mask side glares darkly, a cloth silhouette hugs her smaller self. Both sides returned to staring upon those that were welcoming her into the grounds, in sync with matching confused scaling of the uniforms those undertakers wear. She doesn't even skip a beat in glance on students that watched her and the crowd that gathers for her. For sure she stares directly aware of someone handling a tome of dead names nearby, like she can feel the hand tracing pages confused. At guess, seeking her mask for a name. A undertaker isn't going to find that without her permission.

"So many people." Ms Haynes notes, she can see them. That changes a lot.

"You can see them? Must be the barrier around the grounds or the eclipses. Either way." She mumbled and takes a more direct stare for someone play to much with the corner of pages. She simply had to raise a hand and flick it backwards. The satisfaction of a book thudding a shelf to follow, "Playing with those will get someone turned to ashes. We don't like clean up."

"That's the first thing you want to really be known for?" The gentleman before her is unchanged dispite her changes. Undertakers are all have inhuman lack of breathing about them and the overwhelming lingered aura of what can seem like sorrow. His ageless middle-aged sort of deal and mixed victorian modern spruced uniform. The coat is the Kings crest. His here at official capacity as a Kings man. For being which hand, this is unclear. Additionally like a sixth sense, his name belongs to her tomes - his fate is bound by order present time events.

"Nice to see you again." She did the right job of completing freaking him out. She ends the conversation by walking through him without second thought. This made Ms Haynes freak out too, "Did you forget, Mrs Haynes? This is an all ages boarding school for gifted yet otherwise cursed families." She carries her suitcase at ease and one hand holding her backpack tighter, "I have to go to reception. Let's go."

"But..." She displays the reaction that the students around expected with those whom never encountered the spirit people before to do.

"Best leave the undertakers to do what their jobs are. Sort of the police that protects us from those like them. Or something like that." Ms Haynes freaks out to the point of fainting. Gladly there was always a welcome party people trained for this. Among was the grounds keeper and headmaster overseeing her hand off into the grounds. The girl stands patiently as Ms Haynes is dealt with properly. Someone strong getting the woman off the floor and carries her to the staff facilities. Obeying the impression that some of these people are going to be her teachers someday, she listens to instructions accordingly. The headmaster turns away in shivering, the reaction of the little girl isn't something that should be normal.

The grounds keeper is the human at least, a living man. He was quiet dirty from hands on work. He must have been working in a garden with the amount if compost stuck on his knees. He takes heavy deep breaths, maybe slightly laboured by the humidity of the stale air here. She was quiet done studying him as she looked right at him expectingly for words. He too felt caught off by her impression and posed a hand to say direction instead. She nods with a silent pace keeping with his strides. The man took the shortest route possible through into the reception for the student dorms, he knocks the glass in a patterned tap with someone inhuman appearing. She reacts indifferent, just waiting for what she gets for a key to her own maybe even shared bedroom.

"She's one the Tricksters family children." The clear demon lowered to flop paperwork about and eventually with someone for her to sign. She sees its a register for what students live in which rooms. She takes only a glance to read several sections in a go, the tome reads the same way in this aspect. She going into a isolated single room, off a corridor of older students that will be leaving come September's end. The isolation room is normally punishment or a means of separation of room mates not getting along. It seems because she was late to either join a year or be at the end of a grade year. This made a mess of the way the dorm would be sectioned for the different ages and genders. Luckily still on a female student area and maybe being put alone was for best. She expected to be bullied, so being prepared was better this way.

"She can't be. Doesn't that family pay the most into the school?" So her biological family is bank rolling the place. It might mean her sibilings are brats with money too. She isn't though. Her mom pays for her food and clothing. Her father which technically is her father's family pays for her schooling and whatever grade exams she will be taking for future employment skills. This gossiping between the two staff members doesn't yield much else after, rehashing the reason her mother her main sponsor. Gossip travels fast, she kept in mind. So does everyone know she shot a mans ankle? Time will tell.

"Mister Groundsman, can I put my suitcase in my room now, please?" Her small manners not only shocked them into silent but made him all the mire uncomfortable, "I am sorry for being strange. There are somethings we can't change, my mask is just that. An aspect of myself that wouldn't normally be visible." She looks down, "I realize that I been quite rude for a while. Just taking in the culture shock and that of it being alone in what I see all the time."

"You see folks like me all the time?" The demon receptionist asked.

"I see with no filters or assumptions." She partly lied, "My soul duty is the watch of a creepy book. If you call it that." She frowns and that answers enough.

"Ooh. Your a bit young to be the tome keeper."

"Yeah. Trying to explain that to what seems like a deaf monster. I would rather never ask or answer questions. Even if I wanted to know why it choose me, the outcome makes no difference." She tilted in hearing someone open a book nearby, "Stop looking for a living name in a book of dead." She snapped. Once again a book was returned to shelving with a thud in company of a hand flick. The thud was louder then normal, the grounds keeper heard it too. She ponders that fact. Is the dead realm eclipsing an overlaspe in this school.

"Are you able to manifest a book to you?" The demon asks with slight interest.

"Of course but there is consequence for every action and reaction." Her sort of defence to strange things is always throwing off sounded wisdom or meta thoughts. Her assumptions of there needing lodgic for illogical nonsense, "Maybe the school cat knocked over a cup again. If you find Loki, run away."

"Pardon?" The demon perplexed by logical assumption that didn't mean anything to its question.

"We don't have a cat." The grounds keeper corrects her.

"I guess he looks like a reptile in this place." She further offers, "He is a spotted thing with a big tail. He rubs his nose and face into books that been recently returned. He is quiet loud. A good indication to just run away. He can't be bothered to chase you. The dogs will chase you instead. although..." She chamges tilt of her head to process things, "Maybe they look like birds. That makes more sense. Birds would blend in with the raven soul carriers."

"The school doesn't allow pets."

"Oh, then I shouldn't be here. I am the pet." She posed more confused as if that is natural, "Then again. I am a living human with to many worldly attaches to my life."

"The depth of insanity of this child is unfathomable. She's going to be fine." The receptionist is gone and ground man guides as supervision.

She follows to her room. Putting it to her stuff on the floor beside her bed for now. The white shell was lacking character or individually. It is empty with only the bare minimum furnishings. The window is meshed like prison bars.

She had to unload her backpack loosely but neat. She is to small to reach the bed yet. So making do with surface of her suit case. She had enough time spent to remove the voodoo bully tactics from her room. Her other shadow self replaces them with her own charms of protection.

When she is done, the grounds keeper makes sure she out of the dorm and among the students areas swiftly. Quick to leave her in the lunch rooms as the mid day bell rings. No assign seating plans. First come serve.