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[personal profile] utopiamods
As you all crowd onto the platform with your new and still bizarre mix of faces, expressions, clothing and wild theories, you are met by two girls. Both are in uniforms that would match if not for the colour differences - skirts, waistcoats, and light summer shirts that seem totally inappropriate for the thin layer of snow and ice coating the station platform. Both have a beret with a crest - one shows a sword, the other a shield.

At the first lull in the chatter, the shorter girl speaks up, her soft voice somehow cutting over you.

"Excuse me,"

She explains, in precise, quiet sentences, that they're prefects, representing the two schools in Rakuen. Nanami of Fortitude, she says, placing a hand on her own collarbone, and Santana of Conquest, here pointing to the taller girl she's leaning against. The girl nods, looking fairly bored.

"We will be sorting you now. When we say your name, please move quickly and quietly to whoever called you."

"Yeah," Santana interrupts, "Then we can go back to the dorms. It's not getting any warmer however many times they make us do this."

They separate, moving to stand several metres apart, and both pull a list from their waistcoat pocket. Alternating, they start to read out your names.
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[personal profile] utopiamods
You're falling, and you can't remember why. It's a sickening feeling that makes your insides lurch; the darkness and the vertigo combine, and all you can think of is a story you heard once, somewhere.

Ah, I remember now. It's... a simple story that everyone knows. A legend of a Princess, the Demon Lord who kidnapped her, and the Knight who fought to save her. The Demon Lord had kidnapped the Princess countless times, but every time the Knight bested his challenges and rescued the Princess. No matter what tricks and ploys the Demon Lord used, the Knight would always triumph in the end. This was because--

The world tilts on its axis one last time, and the dream slips from your mind as easily as it arrived. A new voice intrudes on your sleep. Mechanical, monotonous.

"Next stop: Rakuen City. This train terminates here. The next stop is Rakuen. All change." The train rocks steadily as it winds its way through white drifts of snow. Sunlight streams through the window, heating the air and making the seats almost uncomfortably warm. A puff of steam from the train winds its way lazily past the windows when the wind is right.

It's strangely difficult to shake off the sleep; the rhythm of the train seems to lull you back into slumber and the air is warm and heavy, making it hard to keep hold of a thought. Finally, though, the nausea settles, the last of the dream fades and you can take in your surroundings. And, perhaps more importantly, those around you in a similar state.

"We have arrived at Rakuen City. All passengers must leave the train. This train is terminating here. This is Rakuen."
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