[Fenris doesn't plan to take on a novice, so he watches almost detachedly while the lambs stumble their way into the arms of their new makers. Part of him pities them, foundlings who were mostly unwanted and not here by choice, torn from their homes and lives. But mostly, he doesn't know what it's like to have a home and a life before becoming a vampire, what it would feel like to have that torn from him. No, he found freedom in this life. Even if his first maker almost seemed to want him to fail, was enjoying his struggles.

How he was livid when Fenris broke their claim and joined the black court instead.

That was neither here nor there this night. He was dressed in his nicer black clothes the ones that almost shown silver when it caught the light just right. A subtle hint at the season. The heels of his books are tall enough to give him a couple inches of height he normally doesn't have. His mask is up, making his hair long and messily put up, his body lined with black tattoos.

He doesn't approach anyone, instead his black eyes moving from each new lamb to their maker, assessing each one that is within the black court. More novices to test and scare away it seems.

With a sigh, he sips at his blood wine.

[CW: Possible violence]

He doesn't care that the symposium is going on, if you were in his courses then you were expected to attend class and give your all, anything less and he would fail you without hesitation. While perhaps not the most brutal of the teachers, he was up there in pushing until death was at his students' doorstep before pulling back, making sure only the very best students passed his courses.

If death scared someone, then they don't belong in the black court because everything they did was a dance with death.

A. Students can find him before class, warming up with some stretches and sword techniques, wielding a great-sword nearly the size of himself with ease. If you're not careful, you will get cut and he will not apologize for it. Just like he doesn't during class.

B. Fellow Teachers can find him after class when he's cleaning multi-colored blood off his great-sword with a cloth and oil, before sharpening it once more with a whet stone. He looks up when approached, his broody demeanor set on his face like an old friend. His mask is off now, what little skin that shows lined with thin whispy scars.

"If you're to tell me I was too hard on them, go elsewhere."

[Since he was a novice, he's felt he owed the silver court a lot, if it weren't for their efforts with him and tutoring him, he might have flunked out and become a thrall all over again. But he squeaked by with tremendous effort. So when a Librarian approached him asking if he has seen some books, he makes it his goal to find those very books if possible and bring them back.

Unfortunately, he is struggling to find the said books. So he approaches the first person he's seen and asks:]

I am looking for the book, Horticulture of the Blue Court. Have you seen it?

[CW: Graphic Torture, experiments]

When he's invited in, he doesn't know what to expect, but this seems pretty par-for-the-course. The screams hardly affect him as he watches one vampire flaying the skin from the back of another vampire, inhuman blood spilling like liquid silver on to the table and ground around the body.

He hears some mention how surprised they are at the thickness of the skin on the back, how it doesn't cut as cleanly because of it. Fenris isn't surprised by that fact. No, he knows too much about the body and how there is a patch of skin on the back where the skin is thin, where if the arms are in the right position to move muscle and bone, you can stab straight through to the heart with your fingers alone.

But he keeps this to himself as he looks to the person next to him. Another teacher no doubt...

"He will need healing soon, at this rate he could almost become another court entirely with this much blood loss."