Hegel House

[Cammeh]

Hegel House is an old mansion, sturdy but rough and sitting at the edge of the city. It's sole purpose is to house art school students who can't live in student housing, or have nowhere else to live while in school. Students pay what they can, but the house is owned by an old art benefactor and maintained through a trust. The house is back up after a summer of maintenance, and the school year has just begun...



It was time for the big "Welcome to the new school year" party at Hegel House. All the new kids were told to invite their friends, and everybody was to bring whatever booze they could. Nothing was said one way or the other about drugs, let everyone fuck their own selves up. There would always be plenty of weed to smoke and smell.

Currently, it was mid-afternoon, and Alexa was out in the back, catching some sun, getting on her baseline buzz, and working on a watercolour while she oversaw the workers setting up for the party. The catering crew had been working on the barbecue since that morning, and there would be plenty for all kinds of diets, from the carnivores to the vegans. She herself never went much for the hippie foods, but enough people she knew did, so she always included it. Tonight was all about fun and debauchery. That was the up side of being an artist.

She stood up and stretched, her tank top showing off her belly. Adjusting her shorts, Alexa settled back onto her high stool and stared at the canvas, considering her next strokes like she was playing chess. She was soon lost in thought, watching the canvas paint itself in her mind, her beer almost forgotten as it dangled from her hand.

 

[Dawn]

There was already too many people in the house and Warren was instantly grumpy from the moment he stepped through the front doorway. Fresh off of the job of paving a nearby street, he looked anything but presentable with his wild hair and sweaty, dusty clothing. While most students would be enjoying the last hot as hell and sunny to boot days of the summer, getting their tan on, Warren was eager to get away from the light and the heat. And oh, he was tanned, just a step below burnt even, his reflective vest and helmet clutched in one hand as he kicked off his work boots on the porch.

Directly upstairs he went, to his room to strip away these constricting, damp jeans and muscle shirt and head for the shower. No hello or "I'm back". That wasn't his style. He prefered to go unnoticed and unbothered, especially by the decorating party. God help them if one of them asked him where to put a tray of food or the like.