R
Ringmaster
Guest
Geat Village. A quaint, fishing-and-tourist trap area. At least for those of the Hunter/Huntress demographic. Famous for a particularly belligerent water-going Grimm taken down by Kringle, the replica of a tooth lies on the wall of the local inn, taking up twice the length of a King Taijitu fang. An airship landing pad owned by the school rests and in the local inn?
They are already coming.
The teacher has come and left, the flowers left in the snowy lawn of the front yard displaying the prerequisite flowers, lovely against the gleaming white of the puffy snow. A mass of red, yellow, blue and black flowers that resist the cold and endure the harshness of the land. An allegory perhaps.
The air is thick with tension and in the distance, where Valhalla is located the mountains rumble with an approaching storm. Behind the innkeeper counter, where he serves warm, spiced cider(a popular drink for student), among other savory delicacies the radio announcer continues.
"-In other news, the death toll for the city of Vale continues to rise as authorities continue the painstaking recording of what people are beginning to dub 'The Long Night' as Beacon Academy fell to a combination of Grimm and reportedly, the White Fang on an attack scale not seen since the war."
The innkeeper grunts.
And switches the news to a music channel, as the strains of Jazz fill the air.
In the corner booth, one leg crossed over his knee sits a boy in black, a katana in a sheath leaning against the side as he nurses a mug of warm cider, yellow eyes reflected back before he sips cautiously.
Outside, walking the long path towards the village approaches a green haired girl, a gas mask attached to her belt.
And many more in turn, slowly by ones and twos. Valhalla is calling.
And only the most worthy will make it to the top.
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