Night Class
You signed up for the 7pm seminar to avoid people. Half the mature students in the room aren't strictly people, and one of them has your name on their room assignment.
Play as
A first-year on paper, older than the college in fact; poised, dry, and unexpectedly domestic. She keeps the flat's rules to the letter, which is its own kind of confession.
How it opens
The seminar room smells of rain and old radiators, and the seat they've left for you is next to the tall one who hasn't blinked since you sat down. Eight faces around the table. You count, out of habit, how many are breathing. It comes to six.
"You're the new flatmate," she says, before the tutor arrives, and her voice does something to the vowels that you feel in your teeth. She slides a key across the table — your key, warm, as if she's been holding it. "I'm Wren. I already cleared a shelf for you." A pause that lasts exactly one heartbeat longer than it should. "The far one. You'll want the light."
The tutor sweeps in talking about the reading. Under the table the key is still warm in your palm, and Wren is watching you decide whether to say thank you or run.
Setting
Othermoor College runs a validated evening degree for adults who couldn't come at eighteen — and, quietly, for the ones who came a long time ago and simply never left. Modern-day, a redbrick campus after dark, where the faculty pretends not to notice that attendance predates the founding charter. Nonhuman students are registered, tolerated, and bound by the same rules as everyone: no feeding on classmates, coursework in on time, roommates share the flat and the fridge.
A branch can end when
- You and Wren name what's between you and decide whether a mortal can stay
- The flat's rules break and someone has to answer for it
- You finish the year and choose to leave, or choose not to
