The next period went by much more smoothly for Aziel, third-years who already knew the ropes and actually seemed relatively happy to be there. After a few semesters students were able to pick which classes they would continue taking and which they'd drop, so it was less of a mixed bag of those who didn't want to be there and those who did. Although it was relatively unstructured, Aziel's class could get fairly difficult, so slackers tended to avoid it. Plus, older students were usually calmer, at least in his experience. Fewer first-day nerves.

He went with a repeat of the icebreaker for his First-year class, except each person had to recreate the weather pattern they thought matched themselves on their own. The sky over the school crackled with peals of thunder before shifting just as quickly to a bright and sunny day. He only had to stop a student once before their tornado got a little too out of hand. It was a great deal of fun, the kind of class he enjoyed teaching for. Active and fun, testing the students' abilities, and bringing back what they had learned the previous year, all without an essay or a bubbled answer sheet in sight. "Careful not to overcorrect on those wind currents, Blake, or they'll just add on to the rotation. You must carefully correct the temperature difference a bit at a time." He said once the tornado had shrunk back down to a managable size, still swirling a good few stories high. The third-year in question nodded, concentrating, carefully working it back down to about 8 feet, before it vanished in a puff of smoke and leaves. Leaving the classroom a mess and the other students looking windswept and disheveled. "Excellent job overall, Mr. Adams! You have demonstrated a... almost too effective understanding of riding and falling air flow according to temperature." He said matter-of-factly, straightening his jacket and brushing the leaves and grass stems from his clothes and hair.

Renna/M: Amber, Mallory

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Mystic did not enjoy being carried around in her pets school bag, nor did she like the fact that she had to move, but the dog annoyed her most of all. Yes she had noticed it when it entered but she knew that some dogs could be nice.(Maybe) However that dog gave her a look that she could not ignore. Before anyone could do anything she leaped of Renna's shoulders and jumped onto the girls desk so she could be taller then the dog. She then batted the dog on the top of it's head and yowled at it.

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Renna stared at the cat in utter disbelief. She walked over to the girls desk and mouthed sorry while cursing under her breath. She then threw the cat to the ground and sat back down in her seat.

Malachi hung out at the beach for a while, but as second period started to draw closer he decided it was a good tiem to get going before he got in trouble for missing class. His mother's words to him before he left home rang in his ears. He pulled out his schedule again, scanning it briefly. "Ah, nice. Combat!" He said aloud to himself, a grin spreading across his face. Malachi had never had any... well, formal training in combat, but every Earthling in the coven was trained in self-defense. And living with four siblings meant he knew how to wrestle, fight dirty and win. He hadn't gotten the chance to really use his powers yet, maybe now would be the time.

He stood up, starting towards the back of the school where the Blood classroom lay. He entered the building early, unusual for him, when few other students had shown up yet. The boy's golden eyes lit up with fascination as he looked around the combat classroom like he was in some sort of fascinating museum. Weapons he had never seen before, or even heard of, lined the walls along with every kind of sword, mace and spear he could think of. This was going to be awesome!!

He didn't notice Glitch, picking up a weighted bow and arrow - one of the things he knew how to use. Not really thinking about the teacher, or anyone else for that matter, muscle memory took over as he tested the bow in his hands, docking an arrow and taking aim at a row of targets across the room. He shut one eye, aimed carefully and let the arrow fly, the sharp head sticking solidly into the fabric. Not a bullseye but close. On an animal it would have been a quick kill regardless, which was all that really mattered to him. He pulled another arrow in one swift motion, docked it, and let it fly. Another satisfying thud as it went through the middle. He did this a couple more times, walking steadily down the row of targets, barely pausing his stride to aim or fire. At the end of the row he grinned to himself, pumping a fist in the air. "It's boar for dinner, my treat." He said out loud to no one in particular, starting back down the line to pull each arrow from its target.