A Welcoming to Hell (Open)

I Victor woke up. He looked around himself, observing his surroundings. He found himself in a car. A cab to be specific. He took a deep sigh. It was his first day of the Beata Academy. He was quite calm, he had no trouble socially adapting to new environments, despite his usual quiet and reserved temperament. It was a new start for him. He was wandering what the people were like. The faculty and the students. He hoped he didn't find a teacher like Ms. Cooke, who had Victor “special favors” to increase his grade.

As adaptable as he was, Victor needed to take it all in, and reflect everything up to this point. At first he was reluctant to even think about about coming to the school. He liked his old friends. Mildly though, he wasn't really best friends with anyone. When he first used his “gift”. He would eventually agree to the terms.

Victor took a deep sigh, hopping out of the car, and paying the cab driver. He opened the trunk, taking his suitcase and duffel bag. He looked at the school. It was a bit…much. The school was much larger than he had expected. People were moving all over the place, mostly students socializing and showing off what they can do. It was a lot to take in. More than what Victor was expecting. He sat at the bench, gathering his bearings . he hunched over in his seat, clasping his hands together. He had to mentally prepare for this new abnormal life he was walking in to.

Victor started to hear the incoherent whispers. It was the wraiths in his head. Most people would have descended into madness. But to Victor, they were the only familiar thing to him right now. He took a deep breath and tried to settle himself in.

Friedhelm let out a large breath as he stepped his way out of the gym area, ducking his head under the frame of the door, his bright white blown back hair scraping the top slightly, knocking off beads of sweat.  His work was always the same but it still had it's variety.  Black smithing was something he always loved to do, no two requests were the same.  Sure you could get two orders of a battle ax, but there was always some difference, an intricacy that was as unique as the person requesting it, maybe a knot work or a design, some people even had detailed family crests.  Those were his favorites, even if they could start to blend together at the end of the year.  Friedhelm held his latest project, a five and a half foot battle-ax, made normally for someone of rather tall height, seemed almost dwarfed in the 7'0 giant's humongous hands.  He had it over his large shoulders as he decided to take a detour.

He walked past the large fountain and found himself walking amongst the students, all considerably shorter than him, allowing him to see over pretty much the entire crowd.  His bright blues scanned the area, what a group, most people were smiling and laughing.  Others seemed distant but no one seemed distressed or hurt, but his gaze suddenly fixated itself on the kid, hunched over and seeming to be lost in his own head...Friedhelm stopped for a moment, what was going on with him?  Part of him felt it was none of his business, but his conscience already had him starting to move towards the boy.  What could hurt to check on him?  If he was fine, he was fine.  But he guessed there was something going on with him, otherwise he wouldn't have been this way.  

Friedhelm finally happened himself upon the boy, keeping the battle-ax on his shoulder as he scratched his white beard with his free hand before dropping to his side and speaking up, with his bellowing but gravely voice with a hint of German still inflecting itself upon it, his natural voice was not an inside one, it was slightly louder than a normal speaking voice, but it always found itself with an innate warmth that always seemed to follow with a large warm smile.  This time he seemed rather serious, though his voice still held it's same comforts.

"What seems to be the problem, child?"