The Salle, Thursday Midday

[not_every_mage]

Anders was often lazy bordering on irresponsible about practicing magic. He could do what he needed to do when it was necessary, and the rest of the time there were so many more pleasant ways to spend his time.

But when you woke up to a monster duffle bag next to your pillow and had to kick prisoner and cursed suitcases out of the way just to get

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[seeks_truth]

Encountering a suitcase that had simply read Anthony that morning had not done great things for Cassandra's mood. A trip to the salle, then, seemed sensible, if simply to work out her flaming anger issues irritation.

To say that her face did not hold a pleasant expression when she walked into the salle, only to catch the mage throwing dangerous magic around-- would be a colossal understatement. "Mage."

[not_every_mage]

Anders, for his part, looked equally irritated when he glanced over.

"What do you want?"

[seeks_truth]

"I wanted to make use of the salle for its intended purpose," Cassandra said flatly. "This is not a place to make such frivolous use of fire magic."

[not_every_mage]

"And here I thought the room set aside for working with weapons was the best possible place for me to practice with my weapon," Anders said, mildly as he could manage. "I'm hardly taking up the whole place."

He shuffled to the side a bit as he spoke. Cassandra didn't need to see his anger at authority figures valise.

[cracksmostly]

It was probably a good thing this baggage business was happening to Merrill now, and not some years later, but not having that particular bit of insight she looked rather perturbed by the small collection of rolling suitcases she was dragging around after her, all labeled outsider, the odd one, and various synonyms thereof.

She'd just been roaming around the school grounds, but when she heard the sounds coming from the salle she had to poke her head in.

And then trot the rest of the way in, pulling the bags behind her.

"Anders! Oh, do you have them too?"

[not_every_mage]

"I think we all do," Anders said, in a decidedly more pleasant tone than the one Cassandra had gotten. "I've been trying to set mine on fire, but they don't burn. I might go to the pond to throw them in."

[cracksmostly]

"Oh, maybe that would work better," Merrill said thoughtfully. "I tried to leave mine behind a rock in the preserve earlier, but they just turned up again."

She glanced toward his bags -- briefly, but not so briefly that she couldn't make out some of their labels assuming she could see them.

"Does it at least feel better, trying to set them on fire?"

[not_every_mage]

"I don't know if we actually can get rid of them," Anders admitted. "Never figured out a way to the last time this happened. But all the trying makes me feel better."

He half-smiled at Merrill, shrugging and trying to look as if tthis bothered him less than it did. The bags she could see were what one might call the Circle Deluxe pile; prisoner and tainted and risk of possession and taken from home.