[This is the worst damn idea anyone has ever had in the history of Fódlan.
Sure, it was Zephia's idea, but even Zephia can make mistakes. She was absolutely mistaken to believe that some damn street rat would be a good fit among all of these high-and-mighty noble brats. And yet here Griss is anyway, dressed in the same uniform and staring over his shoulder at the exit to the courtyard from the classroom and thinking about ditching and telling Zephia this won't work out.
He's not the only commoner in the Black Eagles, but there's a gulf of difference between someone like Dorothea (schmoozing with the nobles effortlessly) and Petra (a damn princess of another country so does she even count?) and him. Maybe things would be different if he'd been put in a different house, but the Empire's always been his home, and so here is where he belongs. Supposedly. Maybe the noble brats from the Kingdom or the Alliance wouldn't be tossing him baffled stares and annoyed looks.
...Okay, so maybe part of that is also because the second he was out of Zephia's line of sight he immediately undid the buttons on the front of his uniform so he can breathe leaving a good chunk of his upper chest exposed, rolled up his sleeves, and put all of his rings back on, but hey, what can you do.
Griss knows he's damn lucky to have gotten a place here. Commoners aren't accepted to the Officer's Academy without a referral from a noble and their backing, but he got to skip that process because Zephia works here. She's... kind of his mother figure, though he'd never call her that. She's just "Zephia". She's the one who scooped him up off the streets of Enbarr and taught him magic and actually turned him into something halfway presentable - so he owes it to her to at least give this a shot, right? No matter how much it sucks.
Besides, it's not like he really cares what anyone thinks of him. Let them stare. He does look a little odd for a student here - he's older than several of the others, for one, and he bears several deep red tattoos that are bound to draw attention even more than his lackadaisical wardrobe adjustments. Hell, the moment he opens his mouth, he's going to draw even more stares, he already knows it.
But it's fine. Not like it'd be the first or last time, and if this makes Zephia happy, then it'll be worth it. So he sits in the back of the classroom, drumming his nails on the desk as he waits for the last of their classmates to trickle in and for their first lecture to start.]
no subject
Sure, it was Zephia's idea, but even Zephia can make mistakes. She was absolutely mistaken to believe that some damn street rat would be a good fit among all of these high-and-mighty noble brats. And yet here Griss is anyway, dressed in the same uniform and staring over his shoulder at the exit to the courtyard from the classroom and thinking about ditching and telling Zephia this won't work out.
He's not the only commoner in the Black Eagles, but there's a gulf of difference between someone like Dorothea (schmoozing with the nobles effortlessly) and Petra (a damn princess of another country so does she even count?) and him. Maybe things would be different if he'd been put in a different house, but the Empire's always been his home, and so here is where he belongs. Supposedly. Maybe the noble brats from the Kingdom or the Alliance wouldn't be tossing him baffled stares and annoyed looks.
...Okay, so maybe part of that is also because the second he was out of Zephia's line of sight he immediately undid the buttons on the front of his uniform so he can breathe leaving a good chunk of his upper chest exposed, rolled up his sleeves, and put all of his rings back on, but hey, what can you do.
Griss knows he's damn lucky to have gotten a place here. Commoners aren't accepted to the Officer's Academy without a referral from a noble and their backing, but he got to skip that process because Zephia works here. She's... kind of his mother figure, though he'd never call her that. She's just "Zephia". She's the one who scooped him up off the streets of Enbarr and taught him magic and actually turned him into something halfway presentable - so he owes it to her to at least give this a shot, right? No matter how much it sucks.
Besides, it's not like he really cares what anyone thinks of him. Let them stare. He does look a little odd for a student here - he's older than several of the others, for one, and he bears several deep red tattoos that are bound to draw attention even more than his lackadaisical wardrobe adjustments. Hell, the moment he opens his mouth, he's going to draw even more stares, he already knows it.
But it's fine. Not like it'd be the first or last time, and if this makes Zephia happy, then it'll be worth it. So he sits in the back of the classroom, drumming his nails on the desk as he waits for the last of their classmates to trickle in and for their first lecture to start.]