History of Magic

A rather freezing looking Immanuel was positioned smack in the middle of the desks, with bright red cheeks and snowflake trimmed hair. His scarf fell off into a puddle as he was running back to the castle, which he did not realize until his attempt to re-place it onto his face as he was greeted by a splash of ice cold water. Some could call this karma, and a generally freaked out Immanuel was glad he did not believe it in.

Taking his seat, he fished out a rather worn looking copy of their necessary book, obviously used countless times. Immanuel placed a roll of parchment beside it, and a well of ink and quill towards the upper left corner. He boredly drummed on the table with his fingers, waiting for the hostile arrival of his friend, Alex.

Alas, Alex never showed up. He was off having his tongue treated for burns after he'd heated the pole to a point to where he could remove his frosted tongue. Poor lad. He wouldn't be able to speak right for at least a week or two!