It was the kind of sunny day that made the walk to lass a pleasant thing to be enjoyed.  The past few months had shown Alistair just how cold it really could get, but today the sun was out and he could feel it’s warmth across the back of his neck like warm silk.  He had never felt warm silk on the back of his neck before, but he remembered what shirts felt like coming out of the dryer, and the sun felt just as wonderful and smooth.  It was a good day, and he hoped that classes would reflect that. 

        Today was a light day, just a couple of classes, and nothing he really needed to worry about, other than staying awake.  He didn’t think he had any homework to do.  Hopefully he didn’t.

        It was a ten minute walk from his dorm to the center part of campus.  His first class was there, and then he’d stop in the library from about an hour before heading back to the east side of campus for his second class in one of the newer buildings.  Nothing bad.

        He crossed the street carefully, mindful of the fact that he had earphones on and couldn’t hear the cars.  He could see them however, and they were supposed to stop.  Supposed to.  But as Mich was so adamant to point out, if one of them ever hit him, then he could sue, and he wouldn’t have to worry about school bills any more.  It wasn’t the greatest way to pay for college, but it was an optimistic view point.  It was as optimistic as Mich ever got, at least, and enough to earn a chuckle.

        He moved passed the crowded bus stop and towards the quad.  There was still snow left on the ground, so the students couldn’t take advantage of the sudden warmth.  The snow wouldn’t be there much longer, however, and the next sunny day would most likely find them out there in droves.  As it was, the steps to the old theater were growing a little crowded with students out there for their lunches.  Most had text books or novels propped open before them, but some were just sitting, enjoying the warm the sun gave.

        Alastair was passing by these wide steps when the group of suits walked by him going the other direction.  Most of them were elderly men or women, most likely faulty or staff.  Alastair wasn’t sure, but one of them might have been the university’s president.  He hadn’t really seen the man up close except for once, but that might have been him.  There were a couple of young men with them, still dressed in suits.  Probably teachers, then, to be that young.  Must be some kind of tour to show off how nice the campus was. 

And it wasn’t a bad campus, not by any means.  Maybe a little too far out in the country for Alastair’s tastes, but certainly pretty enough.  There were mountains here, and even some wild life on campus every now and then.  It made the walk to dinner an interesting one.  Geese, ducks, rabbits, the occasional cat, and even more rarely a skunk, beaver, or musk rat.  It was certainly more than he’d ever seen in the city, even though he kept hoping to see a deer. 

He was almost off of the quad when someone came up from behind him.  He had heard someone back there calling out, but had assumed that it wasn’t him.  It didn’t sound like anyone he knew, but now that it was so close, he couldn’t help but turn his head to see what all the noise was about.  Apparently he was the answer, for one of the men from the group passing by was running directly towards him.  It was one of the younger men, who looked silly in his dark grey suit with his long black hair whipping back and forth in a pony tail behind him. 

Alastair slowed down, but didn’t stop yet.  He was still hoping that whoever this was, that they weren’t looking for him, but the man came up directly beside him, and Alastair had no choice but to stop.

The man stared at him silently.  His breathing was perfectly normal, as if he had strolled over.  His suit was simple, but refined.  Grey dark enough that it could be worn to a funeral one day and an award ceremony the next.  Even the dark green tie was plain.  The man was taller than Alastair, which was no surprise, but Alastair stepped back a little anyway.  It was annoying to have to crane his neck back.  The man had dark skin to compliment his black hair.  The dark coloring made the man’s eyes stand out, but Alastair didn’t look at those eyes.  He had a good bet what color they were, but he wasn’t going to look straight at them.  Once he saw the beads woven sporadically in the man’s hair, he ducked his head down.  The beading was subtle, hardly noticeable with all of it drawn back the way it was, but Alastair noticed them.  And he could feel the man staring at him as sure as he felt the sun on the back of his neck earlier.  This warmth wasn’t as pleasant, however. 

No one wore beads like that in their hair in this part of the world.  Not when they were adult.  Even those with the right kind of hair type for that kind of thing usually reserved just for their little girls.  No grown man ever wore them.  They only did that in on the other side of the Dalian sea, in the Southern Continent.  But even the traders coming up from there had abandon the look for something more modern.

“You’re Centran.”  The man finally said.  He was still staring, and his voice was quiet and low.

Alastair proudly didn’t flinch.  “You’re mistaken.”  He said immediately.  He didn’t need someone like this talking to him.  Not someone who kept up with the old customs.  Not some southerner who’d want to talk about the old empire.  People didn’t do those kinds of things any more.  For most people, that was ancient history.  Something to be talk of academically, but never personally.

Alastair started to move away.  He wanted to tuck his hair back behind his ears, pull up his hood even, but that would be too obvious, too noticeable, and draw too much attention.  So he just shifted his backpack, ready to get away from this man as fast as he could.  But he had hardly taken one step when the man moved in front of him.  It was much too close for comfort, and Alastair instinctively jerked back.  “What?”  He demanded churlishly.  To hell with whoever was with this man.  The university couldn’t kick him out for being rude.  At least, he didn’t think they could.

“You’re wearing black ribbons.”  The man said, long thin fingers, bone thin, reaching out and tugging gently on one of the black ribbons discretely tied to a lock of Alastair’s hair.

That time Alastair did wince.  Black ribbons weren’t quiet as bad as beads.  Some people even thought it was stylish.  A kind of individual flare of nonconformity.  Not even the history majors knew that it had once meant something.

“Mourning.”  The man continued.  He was staring at Alastair still, and Alastair risked one quick glance up.  Bright blue eyes, sure enough.  That guaranteed that this man was Centran.  Bright blue eyes that seemed to glow.  Just great.  “Why two?”

A steady mantra of cursing circled through Alastair’s thoughts.  Damn this man.  Why did he have to make a fuss over this?  Why did he have to draw attention to it?  And what a stupid question that was!  Why two?  “Why do you think, you moron?”  Alastair wanted to yell back at him.  One for each loved one lost.  Anyone sharp enough to notice them ought to be able to figure that one out.  Alastair swallowed any response like that, however.  There was enough damage as there was.  He needed to just get away from this man as fast as he could.  The idea of him being Centran would sound absurd to anyone else.  The Centrans were a part of history now.  No one claimed to be Centran any more.  They were extent, scattered, absorbed, destroyed just like their empire was.

“Yeah, I am.”  Alastair replied as cock-sure as he could manage.  He tossed his head back proudly, hypersensitive to the weight of the two black cotton strips knotted next to each other about the hair on the left side of his head.  He always tied them tight so there wasn’t a risk of them falling out.  He’d been wearing the same two for about seven years now.  The knots made them feel heavy.

There was no sense in trying to hide them now.  They stood out sharply against his red hair.  He sneered up at the man.  Idiot.  Moron.  Bastard.  The only Centrans that wanted to be known as Centrans lived in communes together.  This wasn’t a commune.  This was a university, and Alastair didn’t need this kind of attention.

Those other men were catching up now.  Alastair could see the Honor’s Program director among them, and hoped that the man wouldn’t recognize him.  “Look, dude,”  Alastair drawled to the man in front of him, finally raising his eyes up high enough to glare at him.  “They’re just a fashion statement.  If you don’t like them, I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Glowing blue eyes narrowed at him, and the man frowned.  “What’s your name?”  He demanded with the tone of a person accustom to being obeyed.

It grated on Alastair’s nerves, and he was tempted to tell the man to fuck off, but they were drawing an audience now.  Attention was not a good thing.  Attention was not a good thing.  “Alastair Durron.”  He replied curtly.  “Have a nice day.”  He tacked on before the man could say anything else.  He saw those eyes widened, and he wasn’t going to risk sticking around.  Hopefully the very un-Centran last name would throw him off.  Alastair side-stepped the man.

“Interesting first name for someone that supposedly does know the meaning of black hair ribbons but wears them like an elder.”

Alastair winced.  That man did not just compare him to one of the elders.  Civilized people didn’t follow elders any more.  Alastair paused involuntarily.  He really wanted to turn around and tell this guy off, but attention was not a good thing.  He took a deep breath, and told his feet to start moving away from the guy.  If he could just make it to the library, he could hide in there.  Hell, he might just never come out.

A/N More of this will be coming, once I get the time to properly sit down and rewrite what I’ve done.  Alastair was the main problem I had because he lacked character.  I’m working on that.