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> Try to join a group of receptive Tech-Priest students and introduce yourself.
The clatter of the Schola's cafeteria faded as you navigated the maze of tables. Nervous glances from younger students followed your every move, while the older ones subtly gossiped with a practiced stoicism. Finally, you reached a group of three Tech-Priests-to-be, all clad in crimson robes. Unlike most of the others, their gazes held a spark of genuine curiosity. You set your tray on the edge of their table.
"Hey, I'm Anon," you offered, hoping they wouldn't mind the interruption. "New student, here. Any chance I could join you guys?"
A soft smile played on the lips of the one with meticulously pressed robes. "Sure. Sesus here, and these two chuckleheads are Jamarco and Zaniel." He gestured towards the others, one of whom scoffed and muttered something about "looking too poor to be a VIP" under his breath.
Jamarco, the one with the scoff and a skeptical glint in his eyes, leaned back in his chair. "Alé, 'VIP'. What brings someone like to you to the Schola?"
Ignoring the jab, you explained with a shrug. "Church orders. I'm, uh. Special. I have no idea why they put me in the VIP section."
Jamarco barked a laugh. "Called it!" he crowed, bumping fists with Zaniel. "You owe me your bacon now, 'Ses."
"So, where are you from?" Sesus asked leaning in with a friendly smile, ignoring the other's demand.
"Xan IV, on Tarass. A Hive world" you admitted. "Nothing like this place."
They exchanged glances, a mixture of surprise and intrigue flickering between them. After some further small talk, you learned that they hailed from the elite of Vassioport itself, their families coming from a mix of the local Zlatino Tech-Guild and the stakeholders of the casinos.
---
Lasguns, flamers, bolters... the instructor's voice droned on in your Basic Weaponry class after breakfast time. You, a hive rat through and through, slouched in the back. Wide-eyed children stole curious glances at you. As the presentation went on, you had never seen guns *this* fancy, not in the underhive. Even if you had, you weren't the kind of rookie to waste your time with them.
Someone snatch your hoverboard? Let it go. Someone insult your momma? Act like it never happened. Things getting hot? You vanish.
Down in the sump, the smart hivers ran. The dead ones didn't.
And once class ended, Slefejo called you over. Someone wanted to meet you in the VIP area.
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