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Claremont Academy, Main Gates Friday, Late Afternoon, March 4th, 2016 Where many of Claremont's future alumni arrived in a fanfare of activity and a whirl of commotion, Lee Young's was much more surreptitiously serendipitous. He'd arrived not unlike anyone who'd just traveled from the opposite side of the country, both jet-lagged and weary when the nondescript taxi had finally deposited him outside the entrance of Claremont Academy, easily recognizable from the colorful brochure provided to him a week prior and still stuffed in his jean pocket. Dressed in a humble red flannel shirt and jeans that had already begun to fade and toting both a hefty looking backpack and matching duffel bag, that same measure of weariness was soon replaced by undiluted excitement at finally having arrived. With childlike mirth, the young man's obvious squirrel-like tail was unabashedly aflutter as he took in the grandiose scope that was Claremont Academy with an unparalleled sense of wide-eyed wonderment. This was a whole new world for Lee, and the idea of having genuine peers rather than being that one weirdo who talked to squirrels in school was as refreshing an idea as it was an earnestly heartwarming prospect. But before he could get to shmoozing and settling in, he had to figure out where exactly he was supposed to check in. The brochure only covered so much, and Claremont Academy was, after all, a big campus -- bigger than any Lee had ever seen, that was for sure! Peering about, there were plenty of students carousing about the campus, meandering here-and-there in groups or about on their own. Never one to balk from a golden opportunity, this was the perfect chance for Lee to kill two birds with one stone... y'know, metaphorically speaking. "Excuse me!" cried the squirrely teenager as he trotted over, his face an energetic testament of sunshine and good vibes even as he shouldered the burgeoning bags across his shoulders and fished out the modestly crumpled Claremont Academy brochure from his pocket. "Hi! My name's Lee. I'm supposed to see Miss Summers about my enrollment, and I was wondering if you might be able to give me some directions."

This is the OOC. Feel free to ask me quite literally anything about the thread, especially if it doesn't make sense. I've likely missed something. As for vital details about the situation, I do believe I've covered it quite well. Though I will admit the sky is only properly darkened around the Canterbury Estate. Doesn't mean that North Bay isn't having a very bad afternoon, though.

March 21. Freedom City. Port Royal. Shore of Lake MacKenzie. Helena Canterbury was a sheltered young woman. Born into wealth and privilege, she wanted for nothing. Except her freedom. She had the best of tutors. Private and very exclusive. The best schools and the finest university. All so that she’d be the all too worthy heir that the Canterbury family deserved. She was never given a choice or asked her opinion. Upholding the family name was the most important thing in the world. And yet…university provided a small window, a way to spread her wings a little. She joined a poetry club, where her skill at macabre verse was immediately compared to Edgar Allen Poe. The small window, once opened in such a way, allowed all sorts of emotions to spill out. Helena had always resented her family and the seemingly vast circle of other people deeply invested in her success as the Canterbury heir. They never showed any interest in what she liked. In who she was as a person. The little sparks of poetic and artistic creativity, the oddball clothing she wore when she could, the interesting quirks of personality she at times displayed…all met with fierce disapproval. Don’t be like that. Be like this. Be what’s wanted. What’s expected. What’s necessary. Helena’s anger burned inside her, but she was not strong enough to oppose her parents. They had trained her too well. She had to be content with the little rebellions, like the poetry club. For now, it was spring break. She and two friends from the poetry club had come back to Freedom. They had bought a few things from an old costume shop in Lantern Hill, and now they were going to act perfectly silly. Helena put on the mask she had bought. Instantly, she noticed a change. The whisper of feathers. Birdsong. A great presence in the sky. She thought it would be nice if she could see it, and birds of all kinds appeared out of nowhere. They sang her songs of understanding. Of compassion. And of power. Sparrows, pidgeons, hawks and eagles. Birds smaller than her hand and almost as large as her. Crows and ravens. Helena smiled. Oh, yes. Strength at last. Vengeance would be hers. But her friends had earned her favor. With a thought they too were empowered, and their loyalties made unquestionable. She did not hear their screams of terror. They were not important. First she must find out her limitations. And then, plan well. Helena Canterbury was no more. Long live The Matriarch! March 25. Freedom City. North Bay. The Canterbury Estate. 3 PM. A flock of birds of all kinds darkened the skies about the North Bay. Screams echoed from many mansions as they broke windows and fluttered about everywhere, attacking nigh indiscriminately. For the smaller birds, like sparrows, this was not a life threatening attack. For the larger birds, like eagles, lives were very much in danger. Maybe a superhero could do something about it?