Jeremiah looked around his room. The walls were bare, white. Did he ever hate the white walls. His fingers went into the inside of his sweater and pulled out his wand. With a swish the white walls went black with white scribbles framing the wall from the ceiling.much better he thought, hoping that the teachers wouldn't mind. He had already forgotten their names. Jeremiah walked over towards the bed to the left with black and white pinstripped bedspreed. This was loads better than the blue and bronze back at hogwarts.

Coheed looked over at Lacey and nodded her head gently. She sat down on the bed and cross her legs. Her heavy knee high boots put some dust on her blanket, but at the moment Coheed didn't care much."Yah Coheed Angelica Grimm." She gave another light nod. Her voice was quiet when she spoke. As though afraid, or just nervous.

Lacey smiled with a nod to the girl. So they were similar with their way of talking. Grabbing at her purse, she dug through it until she took a yellow iPod nano-chromatic, and pushed her headphones into it. The silence was beginning to scratch at her. Switching the music to some Cute is What We Aim For - There's A Class For This. Tucking it into her pocket, she turned for the door. Opening the door, she kept her eyes on the floor. It was later in the evening. No curfew was set yet, so no rules were broken. Singing lightly to the song, Lacey knew the words and notes perfectly.

What you got now gotta, gotta give it up
What you got now gotta, gotta give it up
What you got now, what you got now
We keep ourselves a mystery
But we provide, provide the clues
So the rest is up to you
and don't forget to check the obvious
We are so serious
So I guess it comes down to how curious you can be
What you got now gotta, gotta give it up
What you got now gotta, gotta give it up
What you got now, what you got now
Drama doesn't follow me it rides on my back
I may be ugly but they sure love to stare
Drama doesn't follow me it rides on my back
I may be ugly but they sure, they sure, love to stare
And you check labels more than the FCC
and these calories are, are killing me
But this is a sticky situation
So keep your chest in the game
And drop your jaw and coax me

Coheed looked up and the girl was already walking off out into the hall. This Lacey girl wasn't much of one to keep still it seemed. When the door had closed behind her Coheed got up. This was now her home. It was hard to think of this place as a home. She really never had one. Not even with her mother.

Coheed got up and walked towards the trunk. This was only half her stuff. She sighed gently- starting to unpack her clothing and hanging them up in the closet and putting them in the dresser.

So this room, there wasn't much to do in here. Jeremiah didn't really feel like unpacking. So instead he just digged his hand into the trunk and pulled out a brush. He had to admit, his hair was rather messy. Quickly the brush ran through it- but still left it a bit as a tangled mess. His feet then set out to explore the school. He had to get to know it one way or another.

Ashleigh rolled her eyes, dropped her arms and followed the woman to her room. She was with... What'sherface, Carmen, right. Opening the door, she found the room to be extraordinarily tiny. What else? The walls were grey. Pitch grey. Ew. Crinkling her nose, she pulled her wand out (she had picked it up anyways. Who cared? Nobody, not any more.) and waved her wand - many things changed. The grey dull wash walls changed to a clean, glossy white with black chandelier print all over. The duvet (dull grey. What did these people have against color?) changed pure white too. So did the pillows. Slowly, the room seemed to grow (an undetectable extension charm) and the carpet changed to a dark black gloss. White throw rugs appeared in the room and the wall grew 2 doors on each side - a walk-in closet for each. Well, Ashleigh's closet would naturally be bigger. She was still working on it, anyways...

Jay Jay looked up when a women and man came walking into the field. Great, he thought to himself, pulling himself to his feet. They all followed the man into the building and then found their rooms. he was sharing with someone called Nathan? He couldn't remember so he plonked himself down onto his bed and sighed. His guitar lay next to him, longing to be played, but Jay Jay shook his head and pushed it under his bed. He looked around, the room was a plain and dull white with the wallpaper peeling and a few stains. Wow, this really is a wondeful place, he thought to himself, sarcastically. He stood up, pulled an iPod out of his bag, popped the headphones in his ears, slipped his drumsticks and his wand in his pocket, and walked out the door, his head nodding slightly to the music.

It seemed as though someone else decided to go exploring. One of the boys too had left their room. Jeremiah saw the hanging headphones coming out of his ears. So muggle devices work here but not Hogwarts? Jeremiah walked up towards the boy with the drum sticks and wand in hand. "You play?" Jeremiah asked once he was standing next to the other boy.

Jay Jay looked up, and nodded, "Yeah," he said, taking his headphones off and putting his iPod away. "You?" He even surprised himself that he was actually being nice to someone, but he ignored his own surprisement and twiddled his drumsticks in his hands. "Learnt when I was nine," he said, playing a beat absentmindedly on his thighs. "Jay Jay," he said, holding out his hand.

"No. Nothing's wrong, Princess," he hissed, eyeing her with mounting suspicion. If she took a step nearer he'd hex her bloody head off. The thought of the blonde touching him... The smell would never leave his skin... The close proximity. His stomach squirmed at the mere thought and he took pains to remain breathing. It wasn't that Ashleigh scared him, no, that wasn't it... He wasn't afraid. It was just that every cell, every ounce of his being screamed against anyone nearing him. Mother, Father, siblings... Even as an infant, he'd gum at his mothers hands if she held him. When his teeth developed, physical contact stopped altogether, though he allowed the rare hair mussing. He developed into a toddler, and it all stopped: all of it. Being in rooms with others made him anxious and violent. His parents never did find out why...
Alex's ice blue eyes practically bulged out of his skull as his wand was whisked away from his grasp. His teeth gritted and his hands curled into tight fists, fingernails nearly drawing blood from sinking into his palm with such ferocity. "Give me my wand back. You don't know what I'm capable of doing, and I won't hesitate to hurt you. I have little conscience, but I don't like to strangle girls. I'm willing to bend that rule if I don't have my wand back NOW." He held out his hand in a forceful, livid manner, fingers trembling with raw anger as he suppressed an animalistic growl of hate. Who the hell did she think she was? Taking away his wand! You just didn't take away a wizard's wand, even if you were Sister Do Good. The lot of them were crazy, freaks. Princess was the worst, decidedly, with her color and cattiness. Next up was Mr. Happiness, preaching to him on how he was afraid to be beautiful... Maybe Jeremiah dreamed of one day metamorphosing into a pretty butterfly but Alex couldn't care less. He dressed the way he did because... Because... He wouldn't toy with it. It was complex, and superfluous. He dressed, the end. There was no back story behind it. "Accio Alex's wand," he hissed, stretching out his hand and watching his wand return like a loyal friend. His only.
I hate the headmasters already. Was the first thought that came to Mr. Visser as the man approached them and prattled rules. He audibly scoffed as he heard there was to be no fighting allowed... No one, not one singular person had escaped getting under Alex's skin. There would be fights, it was inevitable. Even if the former Slytherin wished to control it, it would be quite the impossibility. His fists and duelling hand had their own brains and souls, his body followed. And he'd never questioned it, so far this had kept him alive, and at a safe emotional distance from everyone. He liked it that way. Jeremiah? Who's Jerem---OH GOD. He struggled to not groan as he marched, begrudgingly, towards their room, trailing a good ten feet behind the group. Jeremiah. The one he thought most likely to call for group hugs and hold hands and sing Kumbaya. He felt a vicious loathing for his parents as he slipped into his room and unpacked his bag. Why had they sent him here?

Jeremiah smiled at the boy who has just introduced himself. "Jeremiah is the name. I don't play really. I can play guitar though. And Bass. Not crazy good though." He explained. Jeremiah shook the boys hand. Well he seemed alright. "I am more of a singer than anything."

Maybe Coheed would go out for a while. Everyone had seemed to retreat to their rooms or spread outside. It was safe now wasn't it? She put down her ar book and then got off her bed. Walking to the door her boots made a light thumping noise, her wrist jingled from the clashing of metal. When she opened to the door the boy from the room across of her was walking in. He doesn't seem... that bad. Coheed thought. Which really meant that she actually found him rather attractive. But affection? What use was that to her? The last person she showed love to tried to eat her.

So with a small blush across her pale skin Coheed decided to walk the halls.

"Singer, nice," Jay Jay said, nodding his head. "I play guitar and bass too, but I prefer drums, got more beat," he said, twiddling his drumsticks again. "So what do you think of this place?" he asked, looking reluctantly at the peeling wallpaper and dirty floors. "It's a right dump, ain't it?"

Ashleigh was... Done. Her side of the room was completely white - colorless was better than over-colored, she decided, so the entire room was colored white, white and white. The only color coming from the room seemed to be from A) Her closet (overstuffed, like last year), B) The screen of her macbook (pictures from Chicago, from parties mostly), and C), Her Zune and the dock. She was getting tired... And dancing usually helped solve that. Shoving her Zune on the dock, she flipped to 'Here I Come' by Fergie. The lyrics began to flow and she began to dance to the song, the familiar routine.

Ain't nobody rock it like this
Ain't nobody out there swift like this
Everywhere I go all I hear is this (you're alright)
Yes I must confess
And it's true we keeps it fresh
'Cause keeping it fresh is my main interest
Just staying consistent flipping them hits
Can't hate on this...

She loved dancing. No really. She did.

ooc:ROUTINE VIDEO

"Perhaps they do. Bass is pretty beaty too." Jeremiah laughed softly, his hands stuffed into his pockets. His dark eyes looked over at Jay Jay and shrugged. "It's alright. I mean, no better than than Hogwarts. Better than some places I've been in. For how long we are here for, it won't really matter."

Alexander ripped open his bag, still brooding, and tugged out his black bed sheets, black comforter, and black pillow. Nervously, his eyes darted to the chest of drawers, biting his lower lips in indecision. He felt wrong sleeping out in the open on his bed, so exposed... At home he had slept in his drawer, nice and confined, closed off to other siblings. But here...? He could care less what Jeremiah thought about his sleeping habits, but the Netherlands native had grown, and the drawers looked entirely too small. The freaking Headmaster, surely they knew about his sleeping preferences and ordered ridiculously small drawers in retaliation to his being here. He kicked at his bed, heavy combat boot smashing into the metal, and with surprising ferocity, jerked on his sheets, pulling them tight across the thin mattress and adjusting his pillow just so.

He examined the wall paper, the white spirals, and shrugged. They were colorless, if dizzying, white didn't bother Alex much and as long as Jeremiah didn't decide to paint a rainbow and neon bunny rabbits on the wall, it was... Fine. He pulled out a cardboard tube with a caring reverence and shook out his numerous band posters, each baring some violently dressed witch or wizard rather resembling dementors or some other odd, terrifying beast. Their eyes leered, and one singer had scarlet stained fangs, blood dribbling down the sides of her mouth. It was unclear whether the woman was an honest to God vampire or wore the teeth for effect. His half of the wall was completely plastered with underground bands, and he stepped back to peer at his handy work. One was slightly crooked, and with a pang of nausea proccurred by his mild OCD, Alex straightened it.

His clothes he left in the bag and kicked them under the bed with a careless shove, unwilling to settle in. He wouldn't settle in, he didn't belong here. He wanted to be in the basement of a shady pub doing God knows what or in the midst of like-dressed teenagers at a death rock concert. Hell, he'd even settle for Durmstrang but not here. Not with Princess or Sister Do Good, Mr. Happiness, any of them. He was dumped in the midst of a freak show, the message was loud and clear. Oh how he'd like to take his wand to his parents' skulls, or to the Headmasters who recreated the underworld, or the freakazoids he was living with.

Feeling particularly gloomy he dumped his toiletries into the bathroom and with a final kick of his bed, slipped into the hallways, head bent, pulling on his bangs until they were an impermeable curtain in front of his snow face, no gaps in the strands at all. He didn't notice Coheed slightly in front of him, being unobtrusively silent.

Aiden wanted to tell the man he went by one of his middle names, Aiden, not Joesph. He sighed, shrugging and standing up as he went to his dorms. He tried to ignore all of the stupid argueing that had went on earlier, and he heard music from his room. He didn't know who Garrett Fletcher was, but obvoiusly he had to get along with him.

Carmen sighed. She had the room with the Queen Bee. Perfect. She sniffed and made her way to her room. Room 2L, and she almost almost knocked. She realized it was her room, too, so she just walked in. She seemed busy dancing, and Carmen hoped she didn't noticed her as the door slammed [which was on accident].

Coheed stopped, She had thought she had heard someone behind her. A silent russle almost unheard by others. And when she stopped it seemed as though someone had walked right into her. Quickly the girl jumped back and turned around- her arms up in a giving mode as too say don't hurt me. When she had turned around and the blunt straight bangs across her forehead settled she had realized who is was exactly who had bumped into her. It was the boy from the other side of the hall. That boy.

"I... I am so sorry." Her hands still up the air, her voice still shaking a bit. Coheed never expected someone to be right behind her. Perhaps a foot or two, but not so close.

Ashleigh was... Dancing. Like usual. Something banged though, and she whipped around to find... Whats-her-face? Carmen. Something. Rolling her eyes, she grabbed the remote of the Zune dock from the white table and turned it off. The room was completely white. And she loved it - it looked clean, crisp and un-disgusting. "What? You don't like it?" She asked in a tone that just screamed 'rude', her arms crossed now.

Carmen looked up, her eyes wide. "I-I didn't say anything," she said, almost too quiet at first.She tucked her black hair behind her ear. She didn't care, she wasn't one to complain even if she did. She went to her own bed, crossing her legs and hoping the girl didn't yell at her again. She didn't like yelling.

Ashleigh rolled her eyes. Another timid person. How annoying. Crossing the room to the girl, and raised an eyebrow. "Why are you so... Quiet? I dunno, maybe 'cause I'm from Chicago or something, but quiet people annoy me. And besides, you're like, Spanish! I've never met like, a spanish person who was like, quiet and timid."

Ashleigh was pro at poking people where it was uncomfortable.

Carmen looked at the girl. She wasn't telling her her problems. "Well, that's a stereotype," she said, sitting up straight. Although, she was very talkitive before her mother and father was divorced, but that was beside the point. "I was kind of...raised not to be very loud," she said, choosing her words carefully, "by my father." She slid off the bed and arranged the books on her night table. "I don't think you want me to be loud," she whispered. She had to admit, when she was loud and talkative, she was annoying, singing odd Spanish songs and talking everyone's head off.

Ashleigh shrugged. She knew how it was, really- 'daddy' liked her to be 'seen but not heard' in lieu of the entire quasi-european-more-like-settlers-steriotype. But then again, he believed in underage drinking (another 'quasi-european-idea') too. When the girl said that she didn't want her to be loud, she rolled her eyes. Anything would be better than bumbling girl who was silent at all times.

Alex tore at the loose threads of his fingerless gloves, unravelling the thumb hole down to his knuckle as he shuffled along, pulling on a black jacket and flipping up the hoodie, yet another implement for boxing himself in. He was feeling intensely frustrated and despairing, emotions not new to the dark teen. The situation only amplified his negative persona, and violent, disturbing thoughts flashed across his mind as he pondered the possibility of his roommate dying off or in the very least, Princess. He smirked and spun his loop in slow circles, pushing in his earphones and setting the volume on high, just above a normal decibel and just below hearing loss. Screeching lyrics wrapped tight around his accepting mind as he fell into the revenge fed music of Basilisk Bite, the hatred it pumped coaxing him to breathe deeper. His muscles uncoiled stiffly and just as he was peering around for an abandoned corner, he collided with a solid mass. As his thin body crushed into it he felt that the form was warm, and breathing, and smelled good. His blood froze and he thrust the figure away from him, trying to breathe. Something, not defined by terror but stronger, possessed him and nausea twisted his innards. "WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU THINKING?" He screeched shakily, rubbing at his clothes and skin, trying to scrape off the essence of whoever he'd hit. His mouth was dry, and he felt his eyes were unfocused, giving him a dizzying sensation. His heart beat so fast, it pained him, crashing against his ribs like a battering ram.

"I didn't mean to!" Coheed screamed back at him, her hazel eyes wide. Her pale hands shook as they were still raised- the metal hoops hanging off of the leather strap around her wrist made a light jingle noise as they rattled together. She didn't really want to open her mouth, but with him yelling at her- she just couldn't help but burst a little nervous scream from her light lips. "I... I... I just..." She couldn't find anything to say.

The boy seemed as though he was just going to explode at her. Coheed's hands were still up in a innocent act. Her dark framed eyes shook back and forth from the boy to the floor, to the cieling, to the boy and ect.

"I'm Carmen Lopez, by the way," she said, nodding at her and going to her trunk. She wasn't going to let Ashleigh get to her. She might've let her father, but she wasn't letting her. She was rather tired of it, but she knew the moment she stepped out of the room the confidence she had right now would crash to the ground. She muttered something quiet in Spainish when she couldn't find what she was looking for, and gave up. She stretched and closed her trunk, yawning. It will be a long school year, she thought. Espeically with all the drama that's already happened.

Alex continued to scrub at himself, crystal eyes, invisible under his fringe, stretched round like twin headlights, alarmed. He looked as if she'd just hexed him, and his cells stung like she had. He felt his skin crawl, and his marrow froze over as a shiver crawled up his spine, tempting his nausea to a more painful degree. His head pounded in tune with his pulsating heart, and a sharp intake of breath was the only sign that he remained, barely, breathing. His throat was torrid, on fire, yet he could not moisten it, his mouth had run dry. "WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU? STOPPING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE BLOODY HALL? DOES YOUR BRAIN NOT CORRELATE WITH YOUR FEET?" His voice tremored with emotion and he staggered back, unregistering of anything but his phobia. He still felt her body beside his, her scent, her beating heart. So near. His hormones and his fear exploded together, and the result was torment. Alexander's hand spread over his stomach as it lurched, and his corpse face paled to a pallor. One eye lazily focused and through his haze he studied her. Who the hell was she? Alex didn't remember her... Maybe in the back of his mind, the silent, inobtrusive, dark girl. "Bloody hell," the disconcerted boy growled, lips crinkling in a snarl.

"WHATS WRONG WITH ME?!" No, Coheed wanted to keep her head a little longer than this. It didn't seem as though she was going to. Her stomach was already turning inside of her- her hands still shaking slightly. "YOU WERE THE ONE WHO WAS LESS THAT A FOOT BEHIND ME! MAYBE YOU SHOULD WATC-... f-" Coheed put her hands back down, after realizing that they were still up.

Coheed took a soft step back away from him, her large boot made the same soft thump noise as she did so, the metal o's jingled together once again. The girls stomach was still turning, and she felt like she was going to vomit. She felt like she would, but she knew she wouldnt. "I... I'm just sorry." She said quietly, now staring at the floor.