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Roderich Edelstein [ Austria ]
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"Yes that's him. He is a pain, more than you would imagine. And yes I have, if you must know. It's not exactly a healthy relationship, at all," Roderich explained, face blank, void of any expression as he passed a potted plant, a row of vases to his left. The outdated teen's eyebrow twitched at the comment, his luggage cart squeaking behind him. "Elizabeth and Gilbert, friends? More like rivals. Who really knows? I sure for one do not care," the brown haired musician replied easily, tipping his nose up to the remark as if dismissing it. The violet eyed student set the school map in his folder, tidily fixing his black tie. He did not speak about his past relations with others much, the purple eyed student glowered as he strolled down the concourse, exasperated by the brit’s irksome comment. His gaze stopped short as he heard someone explain about music rooms, with an accent that resembled Arthur's. "Was that you? Did you say something about the music rooms?" The Austrian was quick to ask, his amethyst eyes gleaming with a passion at the word. Maybe he would find such rooms later, he himself interested in the music program at the academy. Possibly they could value his piano skills.
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Alfred F. Jones
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Alfred tossed his backpack on top of the blue sheets, shuffling through the objects he had packed with him. A few magazines, a football, some board games, and a notebook. That was all he really needed anyways. Back turned, the American heard a recognizable voice and footsteps move across the floorboards. Suspiciously popping a cherry lollipop into his mouth, it wasn't long until a hand clasped over his shoulder. Who else would call him comrade? "Ivan? Your my roommate?" The dirty blonde jumped at the pleasant tone, whipping around, saying the words in complete rancor. He knew Ivan Braginsky for a while now, and they never seemed to see eye-to-eye. Well, frankly Alfred mainly just did not like the taller student. But Alfred never suspected the sweet-faced Russian would room with him. Coughing into his fist at the sudden quietness after his outburst, the American rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Er- I mean- make yourself at home," the blue eyed student pointed to the bed across from his with a wave of his hand. He remembered all the pranks they had pulled on one another and passive-aggressive fights they had shared in years before. This was going to be a long year, the blunt American could tell.