This was the day. Four different acceptance letters to four different students with very different skill sets. The airship would be in each respective city to pick up new students at the scheduled time, and they were expected to be at the loading dock on time. They were on their way to Beacon Academy, to hone their craft and to graduate to being full-fledged Hunters and Huntresses.

Modriot watched the airship touch down with calm grace, her gaze careful and precise. She had applied to Beacon for reasons of her own, though the tales of capable warriors coming from the place was a definite bonus. She was seeking. . . Not quite a change of pace, but something that had much more promise than that. She had disregarded the idea of riding the airship with the other new students, preferring to arrive in Vale a few days ahead of schedule to watch the students disembark the vehicle, sizing up possible teammates.

She took a careful seat on some shipping crates, her legs crossed. The ridiculous metal contraption gleamed brilliantly in the midday sun; polished windows and chrome exterior casting back the sheen of pure light. It almost hurt to look at.

With a groan, the ramp extended down and hit the ground. Students started getting off and scattering in the various directions, either making their way to the school or content to wander around Vale before heading to Beacon for the mandatory welcome from the Headmaster. Modriot wondered what kind of man he was, considering his school was almost singlehandedly responsible for producing the best Hunters and Huntresses in Remnant. She touched her face, giggling to herself. No doubt she would be taken for alumni upon entering the grounds. She would probably use that to her advantage. There were very seldom occasions where she could not spin something to her advantage.

Jacen walked out of the airship, pushing his way through the crowd. His eyes located a park bench that was vacant, and he made his way to it. Settling down on it, he pulled a pair of blue-lensed sunglasses from his pocket and placed them on his face. He spread his arms out on the back of the bench and crossed his legs lazily, looking every inch the punk slacker. He eyed the other students skeptically. He had never had a team before; they would either be helpful or, most likely, just get in the way. He also had decided early on that he wasn't going to allow himself to get close to any of them; death was a frequent companion in their line of work, and if he got attached to any of his teammates, he'd just regret it in the long run.

He noticed a girl not too far from him on some shipping crates, also watching the students disembark the ship. He shrugged and ignored her, noting that she wasn't doing anything interesting. He watched as a girl in a strangely cut coat and goggles jump off the side of the ramp and keep her distance from the rest of the herd of students, the multiple ribbon-thin tails of the coat swirling around her. She looked like she was trying to avoid being touched as best as she could. Before he could think of a proper disparaging comment, she disappeared, and his attention was drawn to a guy in a flame patterned jacket dragging himself out of the airship very last.

"What in hell did I get myself into?" Jacen asked himself as he pulled himself off the bench and jamming his hands into his pockets. He started walking behind a large group of students that were heading in the direction of the academy, and their incessant chattering was slightly starting to get on his nerves. "At least I'll have a place to eat and sleep for a while." He whispered to himself resignedly, smirking as he walked the cobbled path to Beacon.

Mallaithe entered the room ahead of everyone and staked out a spot in the back, her back against the wall. She hated it when her back was unguarded, and that had been a lesson hard learned. The tails of her mistcoat gently flowed around her ankles, almost as if they were playing with an invisible mist. It was a peculiar design, a solid torso piece with sleeves, but it split into strips from the waist down to her ankles.

Students were starting to file and line up near the front by the stage. There was a large screen and a single solitary microphone on it. A woman with her blonde hair drawn back into a tight bun tapped studiously on a pad in her hands, staring at the screen. Her lips were drawn into a line, her eyes squinting behind her glasses. She said something underneath her breath, and then looked up at the filling room. She wasn't the Headmaster, but she no doubt had some kind of authority here.

The room finished filling, then the heavy doors slammed shut with an abrupt thud. It was enough to still the chatter that had begun to steadily grow. The woman stepped up to the microphone.

"Hello, and welcome to Beacon Academy. My name is Glynda Goodwitch. We would like to extend a warm hand of welcome to all our new students and to those of you returning to us for another year of study." She spoke with a calm voice, dignity echoing in her words. "Please allow me to introduce Headmaster Ozpin."

A sedate man in a green suit and white hair then stepped up to the microphone, a coffee mug in one hand and a silver handled cane in the other. He gave a small smile as he surveyed the room, then leaned forward to speak.

"I'll be brief. You are here to train to be the defenders of this world. You come to us looking for instruction and direction. Put all your energies into learning all that you can, and you will go far. That being said, do not expect to be coddled while you are here."

His serious words echoed around the hall, the weight of them sinking onto each of the students.

"Welcome to Beacon."

He took a sip from his mug, then walked away from the stage.

Glynda then addressed the student body. "Initiation and the assigning of teams for first year students will be tomorrow. All returning students may return to their dormitories. First year students will sleep in the main hall tonight. You are dismissed."

The babble of conversation started up in full force when Professor Goodwitch left the stage. Mallaithe sank against the wall, her legs unable to hold her any longer. This was it. She was here, and this was happening.

Aiden laid on his back, staring at the ceiling. Dinner had been a blur, and now he was bunked down with the other students in the main hall. Two sisters were throwing pillows at each other, but they were far enough away that he could ignore them. He touched one of his revolvers under his pillow, getting a sense of security from them. They provided him with a constant in this ever-changing world.

He could feel his eyelid growing heavy, but he turned on his stomach to get a look around the room first. There were multicolored masses of people on the floor, girls segregated from boys on the very first night. He smiled as he saw the color orange on people's clothing and things. He particularly liked that color.

He turned on his back and closed his eyes, imaging what the initiation would be in the morning. He hoped it would be nothing too strenuous; he really hated expending energy when he didn't have to. Did Huntsmen have an option for a desk job? He hoped so.

Soon, he and every other student were sound asleep, dreaming of what the morning would bring.

Author's Note:

Welcome to Molten. This has been a joy and a pain in the ass to write. That being said, there is a few things that need to be known. Modriot stems from another story, some of you may know, called Preacognitis Black. I have the great pleasure of being friends with Hydratedcrayon, and he has offered her to join the fray in this story. I do not own Jacen or Aiden, but Mallaithe only. This team is collaborative, and each member very much like their owner. I shall be trying to update regularly, and look forward to hopefully hearing what you have to say. I do spend some of my time helping out with another delightful work, called "Sunshine and Shadows" by RejectedKnight34. For now, it is a pleasure to meet you, and once again, welcome to Molten.