Jeremy was at the firing range of the school grounds, his daily practice needed to upkeep, even after his first day of classes as an freshman. He was still a little frazzled, his worst fears had been well and truly confirmed in that he would in fact be paired with another student for the rest of school. He could no longer completely avoid having to form a connection, avoid the dangers that others provided, what they could do under the guise of friendship or love. Most seemed to enjoy the thought however, he could hear the murmuring, everybody trying to guess who they would be set up with, how the faculty would choose, if their future partners would compliment their own abilities. Jeremy couldn't fathom it, how so many could be so trusting, how so many could be so trusting, so ignorant of the harm that could be done them. He felt tremendous pity and jealousy for them, knowing that everybody who puts their trust in another is deciding to let somebody else hold their heart in their hands; and wishing he could do it too.

He shook his head, he needed to concentrate, he had practice to keep up with and it served two purposes at the moment. Practice kept his aura control sharp, something he needed to be constantly aware of, and it also served to keep his anxiety out of his immediate attention. He turned his senses toward the range and his practice, the outdoor firing range was well lit by the afternoon sun, a scant number of wispy clouds meandered lazily across the bright blue sky. It would seem that he wasn't the only one who had decided to take some of the day's stresses out at the range though, as each of the long alley ways were taken up by students. It wasn't usually so packed, but there were many new students this time of year. He could see many of them trying to figure out how the range worked, the switches for moving the target closer or down the range, how to put up fresh targets. Many others seemed well versed in the use of such devices, emptying clips or throwing knives. The air was thick with the smell of spent fire dust, the most common type in rounds these days. His Estoques pistols were loaded and ready as well with such armament, but he wasn't here to test his skill with them. He let out a nervous sigh as he set up his target and flipped the switch to draw it back into the range.

The days were getting a little colder now, he was going to have a little more issue coming out to this particular range soon. The outdoor ranges wasn't the only ones, but they were the only ones that allowed his particular brand of dust use. Dust tattoos, which were very useful in their own way, were also very powerful and prone to causing significant damage that indoor ranges shouldn't have to deal with on a regular basis. They also, unfortunately, had the tendency to burn through his clothes, which is why a slightly colder afternoon was going to be more problematic as the season went on. His shirt and vest hit the ground, Jeremy's dark skin being kissed by the gentle breeze that flitted about the range spurred on by the odd explosion from down the range. He could instantly feel gazes on him, tattoo users were rare, few people thought the pain of getting a tattoo almost weekly to be worth the marginal benefits, but they were definitely something to behold. Jeremy even more so as arguably, his first foray into body art came in the form of numerous criss crossing scars that decorated his body. Pale paths of skin ran up and down his back, front and arms, patterns of colourful ink strategically placed to try and cover up the worse ones. The most intricate and colourful tattoo was on his back, an interwoven pattern of glyphs and symbols.

He breathed in deeply again, trying to shut out the thought that he was a spectacle to the surrounding students, instead trying to focus on his aura. A tattoo on his left arm lit up as he focused, eyes trained on the picture of a lupin grim tacked to a target down range.

Press thee grains of bone to the bosom of my lit heart, have thee forged anew and greater thy splender. He said to himself, a little poem that helped him concentrate though it wasn't strictly neccessary, he did enjoy the calm saying the words brought to his mind. A shimmering light rose from his arm and took the form of a long lance of iridescent and sparkling glass. It was beautiful, interlinking crests and waves, as if it were lazy stream given solid form and purpose. He moved his arm forward as if to throw the lance that floated almost dreamily beside him. It stirred to action, flying across the distance between Jeremy and the target. It stuck the centre of the Grim, fracturing and splintering into a hundred fragments that also embedded in the target with crash that sounded like dozens of wind chimes ringing angrily in the breeze.

He hit the switch to bring the target forward so he could replace it and continue with his practice as quickly as possible. He had at least three more shots to fire before he could call it a day and mercifully put his shirt back on.