gooseberryhigh | A Sorting Ceremony

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A Sorting Ceremony

Sorting Ceremony 2012

September 1st 2012. It seems like forever ago, now. A simpler time. Here, now, a moose is just a moose and aurors aren’t looked upon with suspicion. Mr. Pennywise still teaches Potions and the Anonymous Entry is relatively new.

It’s a hot and humid high in the Utah mountains and a heavy haze hangs in the air. Students have been fed and oriented and the day is getting long. The lights along the trails are flickering to life. It’s time for the sorting ceremony to begin. Students new and old make the trek from the lodge to the cave, not a one of them aware of what they will experience – what they will endure - in the years to come.

A fire crackles in the center of the amphitheater where Gooseberry's faculty and staff have gathered to greet the students. Headmistress Bloom delivers an enthusiastic speech, as she always does, promising an exciting year ahead. Gooseberry is your home for the next ten months. Here, you'll find new friends and family, learn about yourself and the world around you in exciting new ways. Here, you will grow. As she speaks, something moves beyond the treeline. Perhaps you caught a glimpse of it – or maybe it was nothing at all. Before you know it, Bloom’s speech is over.

With that, the first name is called. Step up to the cave and be sorted. It’s dark inside, drafty and full of strange sounds.

Take a deep breath before you head inside and remember to be brave.

HOW THIS WORKS

This is taking place on Sept 1, 2012, the academic year preceding year 1. So, super seniors would be juniors, seniors would be sophomores, juniors would be the incoming freshmen and sophomores are nothing more than an ominous cloud on the horizon.

This is SUPER LOW PRESSURE. Just have fun playing your kids as babies!!

The sorting ceremony takes place not long after dinner this year.

Freshmen and any students who were new to Gooseberry in the 2013 school year would be getting sorted.

New kids spent the bulk of the day unsorted, it's possible older kids may've tried to recruit you to their house!

SORTING CEREMONY: Students are called into the cave one by one in alphabetical order. Inside, the emblems of each house assess the student about why they should join their respective house. Their goal is to convince the student that they're a good fit with them, but ultimately the student is allowed to choose where they'd like to go. If the sorting takes more than five minutes, a teacher will go in to hurry things along. After your character is sorted, they go to sit in their house's section of the audience, often to excited cheers.

After the ceremony, students head back to their campsites with their new classmates for the evening.

Blah blah blah...

» Before the Ceremony: Today was a busy day! Everyone arrived this morning by 11am. There was lunch and orientation, a bit of free time before dinner. What did you get up to?

» The Sorting Ceremony: Students gather in the amphitheater outside the sorting cave to see the newest members of the Gooseberry family learn their new houses.

» After the Ceremony: It's well past sunset, now. Time to head to your campsite and settle in!

» OOC - Questions, comments, concerns!

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Even if her posture is tight and withdrawn in an unfamiliar way, the simple two plait hairstyle should give away who this is. Antonia Papadakis is just a tiny wisp of a thing, tired-eyed and newly trusted with responsibility. Truth be told, being charged with enforcing the rules is sort of invigorating in a way she's not used to. The touchy feely bullshit she could take or leave, but having something to do, that's great.

If only her partner in crime fighting were someone more enthusiastic about the job. Nia sighs heavily and stares at her co-prefect across the way, sizing him up. This is a partnership, so she's going to make it work the only way she knows how.

Pushing past a few juniors, Nia plops down next to him as he sits. "So, I see your plan is to preempt bad behavior in your peers entirely with an intimidating scowl."

The only way she knows how to make things work is by being a shithead.

Unfortunately, Nia's quip is wasted on Casper. The boy's headphones are on and the music pouring out of them and directly into his ears is loud, effortlessly obscuring her words beneath rapid drumming and hectic guitar riffs. But that doesn't stop him from noticing how close she is to him and he looks over to see her lips moving. For a moment, it seems like the sharp-faced boy might not bother with an answer but...they'd both met with Ms. Rhee not too long ago and he can only guess that she's here because of the matching badges pinned to their jackets. Reluctantly, he removes his headphones and looks at Nia with uplifted eyebrows.

"What?"

He still doesn't know what to make of this girl but it's probably in his interest to start figuring her out. At least a little.

Edited (Two Little Shitheads. ) 2018-07-17 17:20 (UTC)

Several seconds tick by, the only sound passing between them ambient noise - other students, Casper's headphones - Nia stares, flat, until her lips curl into a grin and she rolls her eyes.

"Nothing. Hey, I've got something you might like?" She ticks her finger toward Casper's headphones. "I'll put it on a USB stick for you. Just don't listen when you're on rounds because, like, you won't be able to hear shit. Not that it'll be a problem for you, huh, Stormy? Gonna knock 'em dead out there."

Casper doesn't smile back but he does dip his hand into his pocket and turn off his iPod, silencing the noise blaring out of his headphones. A skeptical look crosses over his face at the mention of a USB and sharing music but he doesn't argue. Instead, he shrugs stiffly. He doesn't give a shit about people breaking curfew. Not really. But he'd agreed to be a prefect and he intends to do what needs to be done...even if he isn't entirely certain why he'd agreed at all.

"Don't call me that," he returns flatly, then continues, "And no. It won't be a problem. This isn't anything I can't handle." He pauses, looking at the girl and tilting his head enough to make some of his dark hair fall across one eye. Last year, he'd still been growing it out; it looks better now and it suits him. He pushes it back. "...What about you?"

"Not Stormy," she says low enough to make it sound like a mental note that she's not really making. (Even though, for what it's worth, she'll never try calling him Stormy, again.)

Nia quirks her chin up, looking ever so slightly offended by the question, and wraps her fingers around her pigtail braids before she responds. "Me? I was made for this stuff. Rules are easy." Her delivery is remarkably confident, given she isn't so sure she believes it, herself. She tosses a quick glance and a lifted brow toward the older prefects nearby. "I'm more worried about getting babied by the higher ups."

Made for this stuff? A faint, wryly amused huff of breath escapes Casper but he doesn't say anything. She didn't question his proclamation of confidence and he has no interest in questioning hers. Besides. How hard can this be, anyway?

His dark eyes follow Nia's toward the junior and senior prefects, then turn back and he shrugs again. He's had the same thought. "That only happens if we let it," he points out, "Apart from the Head Boy and the Head Girl, we've got the same authority the rest of them do. We can do this the way we want; we answer to Ms. Rhee, not them." He doesn't give much thought to the fact that he's now speaking in terms of we rather than I, us versus them, but he hadn't expected to be on the same page with her either.

Honestly there’s probably nothing to see in the sorting cave, at least until you get inside. Jade’s clustered together with the other freshmen whose last names start between C and Z, all waiting to get in. She’s not nervous. She knows that whatever house she gets in, she’ll take over in a month. That’s how it’s always been. She’s mastered the art of getting her way, from downright ignoring other people to standing with a haughty sneer like she is now, staring down the cave like she’s going to come in it and burn it down personally if their answers aren’t correct.

Or at least she would if a tall boy with extraordinarily bushy hair wasn’t smack-dab in her eyeline.
“If you don’t move, you’re not going to have your head for long.” She snaps, impatient to stare down a disco fox. She looks like she means it. And she did bring her sharp knives.

Lucas turns and then after a beat remembers that he probably has to look down to see the person who wants to decapitate him (this whole being tall thing he stumbled into over the summer is rough). For a split second he makes eye contact with Jade Otterwell, and the look on his face perfectly captures the pathos of a retail cashier who's finally being relieved thirty minutes after their shift was supposed to end on Black Friday.

"Oh, that would be a mercy," he says in a tone that's so flat it almost sounds like a weight's been lifted off his shoulders. "I'm sure there's a saw around here somewhere."

Okay. That's...that's plenty of dumb words. Too many dumb words strung together at once, frankly. And more than enough eye contact. Good job. He dips his chin and tries to blink out of existence. He'll settle for just ducking out of the way.

This is a fun enough reaction that it gives Jade a little pause. She even laughs, and assesses her too-tall classmate. He's probably not going to be in the circle she's trying to invade, she figures out almost instantly. He looks shy, at best. But that doesn't mean she has to ignore him. Jade's never put much stock in current high school social capital. She's more interested in slashing and burning. This boy isn't shying away from the slashing part, and that's enough for Jade.

Uninvited, she strides up to his side, away from her own place in line. Unfortunately, the next K in line is equally as large, anyway, so this isn't a vantage point of any kind. She sighs a little. "Do you think that's what they're doing in there?" She wonders aloud, even though teenagers are clearly coming out of the cave full-headed, "Sharpening the saws on our necks?"

Shoulders already hiked up, Lucas tenses at her approach. Did she just laugh? At the dumb thing he said? It didn't even sound a little disgusted. He watches her a moment longer, all the curious caution of a cat tracking a bug, and then pops up onto tiptoe to peer over the crowd.

"Oh," his tone goes grave as he falls back on flat feet. Lucas still isn't quite ready to offer a smile, but his voice does brighten ever so slightly. Whether that's because he's gotten comfortable or because of the subject matter - that's yet to be seen. "And they're replacing them with new ones. So you fit in better with your house."

He's very nervous, Jade amends, mentally. She's not. She tries to imitate him and make herself tall enough to see this parade of horrors too. Unfortunately, Jade's essentially a well-dressed toothpick right now, and inches shorter than she'll grow to be even in a few years. She pretends to see, though. She's very good at that.

"Oh. Look at them." Jade stage-whispers, because he may as well know her full potential, "We're all going to come out of there with bloody animal heads. I think the foxes still look dangerous. I'd like to be that."

Jade has, actually, resigned herself to Coppertale after reading the brochures, but a dead fox on a teenager body does cut an intimidating figure.

For a moment, he's staring again, mouth hanging just a touch open. The barest hint of a smile tugs up on one corner of his lips, and then he averts his gaze again. "Bear seems like it'd be good for that, too. Though, really, anything but a fish head."

His attention flits to the next student called into the cave, still wearing the vague impression of a smirk. "Seems messy, getting the gills to connect with the lungs right. Gruesome work..." And just a few short moments after the student steps in, they're back out again. Cheers rise up from Ebonhide as they move to join their new house. "But done quickly."

He stalls, after. Thinking, then lets his fingers flutter in the air, like he wants to offer his hand for a shake. In the end his arms draw closer to his chest, rather than out in offering. Introducing himself is harder than it should be. "I'm Lucas."

“Ooooh. Maybe they have to turn their throats into gills.” Jade drawls out, visions of fish headed people with lungs made external dancing through her head. Usually this kind of topic put people off. This was the way, so many times, that Jade had cleared a room or a line for her own benefit. Maybe that’s why she’d started this time, but he wasn’t budging.

She looks at him a little more thoroughly. It’s mostly to see if he’d believe or she’d want to use another name here. Then she remembers they’re going to call it in a moment anyway. “I’m Jade.” There’s probably nothing lost in him knowing who she was. She’ll be gone in a few weeks anyway. “What new head do you think you’ll be getting?”

Edited 2018-07-18 13:01 (UTC)

Standing amongst his fellow 14 year olds, Cassius Holcomb cuts a far less distinctive silhouette. Still, there's something about his posture —feet shoulder width apart, hands clasped behind his back— that would be recognisable to the observant time traveller. Not 'uptight' so much as 'tightly controlled,' even as a freshman.

He's quiet; his voice hasn't dropped and now, in this new environment, he's taking care to open his mouth as little as possible. Which is fine. He doesn't mind. It's like a game, in a way. Saying the most in the fewest words. Besides, he's never made a habit of garrulity.

Cash's eyes flick back and forth between the cave and the crowd. Sophomores and upperclassmen are gathered around in colour-coded clumps, and he's already formed some opinions about the houses and their occupants. The ones in purple are high strung. The ones in blue? Clearly on amphetamines. He sighs. It could be worse. The "Ribbonfins" strike him as remarkably boring. And at least people on speed are productive.

"You should change your name," he tells the boy on his right as the students start to line up. They're half an alphabet away, but he's feeling reluctant to part from his friend just yet. Ending up in separate houses would be... aggravating.

Rosemary Stoker was made to be a prefect. Arms crossed, resting bitch face on, she narrows her eyes at all these unruly freshmen and honestly everyone else around her. Maybe she can be the first prefect to take points this year. That seems like a nice goal to have.

"Spot any troublemakers yet?" she asks her new co-prefect, the yin to her yang, the scrawny kid she called Fergie for at least the first six months of last year. They've moved through half the alphabet by now, they've definitely had enough time to properly judge these kids.

Ferdie is trying to stay one arm's length away from Rosy at all times. She looks like she could punch him. Maybe if he just let her boss everyone else around, she wouldn't. And besides, this way they could conquer more ground? Or something. Not for the last time by any means, Ferdie Ayers feels like he may have bit off more than he can chew, and swallows it anyway.

"All of them?" He hazards a guess. Even the kids in their house looked a little unfriendly, especially the boys. Or maybe that's just some kind of new-prefect bias. But he tries to play to house loyalty even when he's not feeling it. "Ours look law-abiding."

Rosy surveys the line of children less than a year younger than her. "Law-abiding just means they haven't been caught," she says, lips pressed together in a straight line. "Yet." Because apparently the formidable duo of Stoker and Ayers is the only thing that's going to keep the Honorable House of Ribbonfin from descending into lawlessness.

"If this job gets us into trouble, how's your right hook?" She might be joking. It's not clear.

Oh, god, she's strict. He could never be that strict. Could he? Maybe he'll let her hide behind him. Figuratively. Literally. Not entirely in control of his own arm right now, he punches the air and then pretends like he absolutely hadn't just done that. "Deadly?" He hazards.
It sure isn't.

The sorting of yet another Azurcrest and the resulting hoots and hollers are all that save the entire amphitheater from hearing Rosy laugh at Ferdie's punch. It's not a mean laugh—or, well, it's not meant to be a mean laugh, she's just pretty sure Ferdie made a joke there.

Because, like, people don't actually punch like that, right?

"We're gonna kill this, Ayers," she says, and lightly knocks her fist into his shoulder. She thinks it's a light, joking punch, like he just did. It's probably not quite that. "And maybe a couple freshmen along the way, but there has to be a margin for acceptable losses."

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