The weather had been nice lately, from what the reports showed. Blue skies, fluffy white clouds, tropical breezes... It was different from back home in the mountains, but not unlikable. Hopefully he'd acclimate soon enough.
He'd been trying his hardest to not be nervous about being in a new school- let alone a foreign land. Of course, it hadn't exactly been working. Even after the plane had landed and he'd been escorted to the school by car, he was feeling a little uneasy. He'd sat in the back, reading a small pocket dictionary, trying his hardest to learn as trees passed and the small vehicle traversed a somewhat rocky drive. He should've studied more quickly, he should've read on the plane-
He didn't even know English yet, and he'd have to try and speak it in less than ten minutes!
He was jolted from his vigorous reading as the car pulled to a halt, prompting him to look out the window. The school was before him, and at the moment, they seemed to have stopped in a courtyard. There were flowers, trees- Well, at least it looked welcoming. He got out as the driver opened the door for him, giving a quick, "Grazi, signore," before the man got back inside the car, driving off.
His luggage was already supposed to be in the dormitories, and he had just been given a map. Opening it, he was glad to see that it was all very well laid-out.
...
But God be cursed, the whole damn thing was in English!
He looked around, trying to find someone that could possibly help him. He settled upon a person that sat on a bench, walking over and running a hand through his dark hair to try and make it look less of a travesty.
Well, admittedly, it was too late to worry about appearances now. He was wearing jeans as usual, and sandles because the weather was nice. A dark-blue jacket was wrapped around his waist, which had previously covered the loose, black, sleeveless shirt that he wore. He didn't even consider the fact that his tattoo was easily visible, or that he might be breaking some kind of dress code by not wearing sleeves.
"Mi scuzi, mi chiamo Se-" he began, already slapping himself mentally for starting in Italian, and then saying, "Sorry... My name is Seth. You can help me out here, si?" with what he assumed was a heavy accent. Well, time would make him better, hopefully. This was the first time he'd ever really had to test his omnilinguistics.
He'd been trying his hardest to not be nervous about being in a new school- let alone a foreign land. Of course, it hadn't exactly been working. Even after the plane had landed and he'd been escorted to the school by car, he was feeling a little uneasy. He'd sat in the back, reading a small pocket dictionary, trying his hardest to learn as trees passed and the small vehicle traversed a somewhat rocky drive. He should've studied more quickly, he should've read on the plane-
He didn't even know English yet, and he'd have to try and speak it in less than ten minutes!
He was jolted from his vigorous reading as the car pulled to a halt, prompting him to look out the window. The school was before him, and at the moment, they seemed to have stopped in a courtyard. There were flowers, trees- Well, at least it looked welcoming. He got out as the driver opened the door for him, giving a quick, "Grazi, signore," before the man got back inside the car, driving off.
His luggage was already supposed to be in the dormitories, and he had just been given a map. Opening it, he was glad to see that it was all very well laid-out.
...
But God be cursed, the whole damn thing was in English!
He looked around, trying to find someone that could possibly help him. He settled upon a person that sat on a bench, walking over and running a hand through his dark hair to try and make it look less of a travesty.
Well, admittedly, it was too late to worry about appearances now. He was wearing jeans as usual, and sandles because the weather was nice. A dark-blue jacket was wrapped around his waist, which had previously covered the loose, black, sleeveless shirt that he wore. He didn't even consider the fact that his tattoo was easily visible, or that he might be breaking some kind of dress code by not wearing sleeves.
"Mi scuzi, mi chiamo Se-" he began, already slapping himself mentally for starting in Italian, and then saying, "Sorry... My name is Seth. You can help me out here, si?" with what he assumed was a heavy accent. Well, time would make him better, hopefully. This was the first time he'd ever really had to test his omnilinguistics.
