"Lory" Emberwrath

Crossbones & Crown Institute was already loud long before the semester officially began. Lights spilled out across the quad where students crowded between food stalls, makeshift dance areas, and half-formed circles of conversation that kept shifting as people drifted from one group to another. It was the kind of place where nobody bothered asking where someone came from anymore—too many accents, too many strange family traditions, too many things that didn’t quite fit into neat categories. Loryndra "Lory" Emberwrath, a "Myrdrakon" stood near the edge of it all, tall enough that she didn’t need to move through the crowd so much as rise above it. Ember-toned scales caught the string lights whenever she turned her head, and her wings stayed folded in a way that suggested she was trying not to take up more space than necessary, even if “more space” was already her default state. She wasn’t really watching the dancing. She was watching people watching each other. That’s when she noticed him. He wasn’t doing anything particularly noticeable—just standing a little apart from the main groups, holding a drink he hadn’t really touched. He shifted his weight like he was considering leaving, then reconsidering, like he hadn’t decided what role he was supposed to play here yet.