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Location: Academy Courtyard

Dikran stood, at his full height of 5'8, on his phone, clearly stressed by the testy tone in his voice. "Khndrum yem nerel indz , hayr... Yes gitem , bayts’ yes ch’yem tesnum voreve ban teghi unenum akumbum , Aghach’um yem dzer neroghamtut’yuny?", he pleaded, with the unknown voice on the other side of the phone call. He held his fresh uniform folded over his right arm, and his bag slung over his left, in which he also held his phone. After a few more moments of conversing over his phone, he flipped it shut, letting out a short, exhausted sigh as he slipped the phone into his bag. After a quick gust of air flew by, ruffling his robes a little, he moved over to a bench, sitting down. Dikran slid the bag down his arm, laying it onto the bench, effectively taking up half of the seating. After he left the Thespian Society and Chorus, he hadn't had much left to do with his free time, aside from refining his skills of dance and singing, he often found himself alone, thinking his thoughts. Recently, though he found himself getting more and more stress, even though he thought he left it behind when he left his clubs, but it seems that was not the case.

Dikran stood once more, taking his phone from his bag again, leaving his bag unzipped purposely. He then laid his uniform on the bench very carefully, as not to wrinkle the newly bought uniform. Upon placing the uniform down, he flipped open his phone, and began to look through his contacts slowly, "Father... Mother... Brothers...", he sighed at his thoughts, three years, and not a single friend kept, at least not long term. "Eh... friends lead to weakness, lead to failure...", he whispered, subtly in his Armenian accent, flipping his phone closed once more. Dikran then proceeded to place his phone back into his bag, and lifted his uniform again, folding over his right arm once more. With that, he took his bag, and slung it around his left arm, and proceeded through the courtyard, ever step he took, ever so light, almost sliding from one step to the next, with the grace of a butterfly. After his quick 'scurry', he found himself quickly bored once more, but also staring face to face with the most glorious fountain he had ever seen, then again, he was raised in a Middle-Eastern land, basically either extremely hot, or extremely cold all the time...

Dikran shut his eyes to the soft tune of the flowing water of the fountain, he found himself here in his previous years, always for a different reason, always a different time of year, always related to family... This time it seems his father wasn't very happy that he dropped out of the Thespian Society, which he was luckily able to hide for at least a year. But everything seems to fall apart when things are almost looking up for him. Dikran let out a sigh, and sent his left hand into his pocket, wrenching out a silver coin, and held it up to his lips, "This year will be better... I know it.", he whispered, tossing it into the fountain. Dikran then spent his time looking over the courtyard, not much to do yet, classes hadn't yet started, and he didn't need to buy anything yet, so he had all this time to himself, "Maybe I should head to the library soon...", he whispered to himself, spinning around a little, before stopping and sighing again, his eyes finding themselves wandering around once more.