"And now a look at local news. Tradegy strikes the Institute of Applied Dust Research in Vacuo City pro..."
The figure on the bed stirs, moving in great, lumbering strokes before forcing itself upright. Bright blue eyes, narrowed in exhaustion, come to rest on the source of the noise - a metal tube lying next to his pillow, stark white and just large enough to fit in his hand. A great, groaning sigh escapes his lips as Mathias Steele forces himself to try and take stock of his surroundings. Still dizzy with sleep, he gives his cheek a gentle slap, trying in vain to accelerate his sluggish morning ritual.
Casting a dazed glance about his surroundings reveals a fairly bare-bones cabin - a bed, nightstand, and a small closet in the corner to store his things. The only true 'luxuries' afforded was a window in the opposite wall, leaking in sunlight from the rising sun, and a small mirror on the door.
"...one of its most promising researchers, Maximillian Gilden, was reported missing earlier this morning. When asked if there was any suspected connection to the earlier spate of disappearances, Vacuo City's chief of police had this to sa-" With another lumbering jerk, Mathias picks up his Scroll and presses a button in its end, silencing it. A great, boorish yawn escapes his mouth before he turns to throw off the sheets and step out of bed. No point in dawdli-
SLAM
Pain lances through Mathias's head as he gracelessly tumbles forward, his face planting cleanly on the cabin floor. Shock and adrenaline shake him from his stupor as he becomes rather acutely aware of two things - one, that he'll probably need to make sure his Aura patches up that bruise before he heads out; and two, that his body felt... heavy. Heavier than usual, at least. Why...
'Oh, right. Airship.' He shuts his eyes tightly, trying to block out the dull ache in his forehead. At least he was alone in his room, so he wouldn't have to suffer the embarrasment of everyone knowing he currently had the agility of a toddler with concrete limbs - not that it helps his flush, of course. 'I hate flying...'
Forcing himself to his feet, Mathias takes in a deep breath and focuses inward, letting his Aura seep into his heavy limbs. Though he begins to feel a cloying emptiness deep in the recesses of his mind, his arms and legs begin to lighten, as though surging with newfound strength. He didn't like fueling his Semblance with this much of his own Aura, but at the moment he didn't have much choice. 'It'll have to do until I'm back on terra firma, at least.'
He heads over to the closet and opens it, revealing two ordinary black suitcases. Popping one of them open, he slowly unpacks a suit of gunmetal gray armor. He frowns at its condition - already coated in a thin layer of dust and spattered with dirt. He'd just cleaned this blasted thing two days ago! With a resigned sigh, he begins strapping on each piece in turn. Cuirass, greaves, armplates, gauntlets, boots. Last is a white cloak, wrapped around a white metal cylinder roughly twice the size of his Scroll. He secures it to his waist before closing the suitcase and motioning to leave the room.
Mathias stops at the door, his hand wrapped around the handle. Catching a glimpse of his appearance in the mirror makes him start for a moment - he looked exhausted, scruffy, disheveled. Like a combat school washout, not like he was about to attend one of the most prestigious Hunter academies in all of Remnant.
Dust, what had he gotten himself into this time? Him? Attending Lodestar?
His eyes, still glinting with barely-concealed nervousness, come to rest on the scar resting on his right cheek. His head reclines forward, gaze half-lidded as his free hand comes to rest on his cheek, gently brushing against it.
He takes in a deep breath, nearly staggering as he chokes back a sob. Now wasn't the time to make a fuss. He was on the verge of attending Lodestar, for Dust's sake! His grip on the door's handle tightens, and he can feel its brass begin to deform ever so slightly.
Hunters are strong. Hunters are brave. Hunters don't cry in their cabin when the greatest opportunity of their life comes knocking!
Another deep breath. He has to be strong. Strong like a real Hunter. Strong for Elva.
Tearing his eyes away from the mirror, he forces the door open, stumbling into the empty hallway. Like his cabin, it's sparse, painted a dull white and extending straight down what he assumes is the airship's length. He glances down one end, before resolving to check on his little sister. If all the rooms were singles like his, she likely wasn't having the most pleasant morning either...
