Greed’s class is straight-up nightmare fuel. They can clone themselves, steal other people’s powers, and open literal pocket dimensions. Like Pride, it’s focused on manipulative power plays versus actual combat. It's not a class so much as a live horror show mixed with a crash course in economics and business. I can’t even follow what they are talking about most of the time.
Lust? Whew. That one's a front-row seat to a slow, sensual identity crisis. They shift their appearances, drip seduction from every pore, and wield persuasion like a knife. It's... a lot. Let’s just say I’ve becomevery skilled at staring at the wall and pretending I'm fascinated by floor tiles.
Gluttony was a curveball. Half power training, half potions lab. Tonics, elixirs, weird glittery vials that shouldn’t melt the floor like I witnessed. I've developed a strict “no unsolicited beverages” policy. But hey, Cleo and Tabby are in that class, so it’s not all bad. They make it bearable, even if Tabby almost blew off Cleo’s eyebrows last week. Good times.
Sloth is like an academic retreat. Runes, light enchantments, ancient artifacts. No explosions, no drama. Just cozy vibes and the occasional cursed object. They’re not allowed to use their full power because tapping into it makes you a public enemy, so I’ve been told..
Envy’s class is... yeah, I have no idea. The room is a crypt—dark, full of shadows, set up like a haunted chessboard. There’s whispering, slinking, strategic movement—but I can’t see anything. I just sit there, absorbing nothing, learning less, and hoping no one sneaks up behind me. I think that’s the goal. Paranoia.
When I’m not in class, I spend time with the few people here who don’t make me want to launch myself right off the cliffs back home. Holly trains with me on the weekends, which is the highlight of my week since I miss out on those classes. It keeps me grounded. Focused. Prepared.
And then there’s... the bonds. Or the lack thereof.
The stupid, pulsing tug in my chest that refuses to leave me alone. Like a magical tracking device for heartbreak. I don’t know if they feel it too. If they do, they're either world-class actors or just super committed to ghosting me.
Professor Gabriel, aka Mr. Sloth & Silence, still won’t acknowledge me unless I’m asking to swap out my light reading material. He probably thinks I’m some voracious academic.
So gladno one can see me snuggling the tomes to my chest at night to ease the aching I have to be near them all, while my dignity collapses in real time.
Atticus Willshire, Crown Prince of Smug, hasn’t spoken to me since disowning our bond in the storage closet. His posse still treats me like gum on their designer shoes, and he continues to let them. You’d think the fact I’m keeping this bond a secret would earn me some brownie points, and he’d tell his Pride followers to back off. I’d take offense if it weren’t so predictable.
Maylo freaking Villanox—the Speaker for Envy and straight up douche bag—has mastered the art of avoidance. My bond will pull me in his direction, and, like magic, his signature vanishes the second I get close. I mean, he voted to exile me, so I can’t blame him for wanting to avoid that awkward introduction.
And then there’s Mystery Lust.
Of course, he hasn’t shown up. Lust doesn’t do bonds. They do orgies.
So, unless he's developed a sudden interest in monogamy and emotional commitment, I’m not holding my breath. I’m guessing he doesn’t even know we’re connected. Or care.
So yeah. Welcome to my life. Part-time student, full-time freak of nature.
Sinless, stuck and waiting for the next shoe to drop.
Instead of a shoe, I get a hard fist thump on my desk.
“Take this to the front with you,” my class partner and full time Mafia leader, Maddox West, commands, handing me his completed pop quiz.
Gluttonous, bossy crime lord.
“You’re lucky you’re a smoke show or Gluttony would have traded you to Sloth for being so lazy.”
“I assure you; my looks are not what keeps me around,” he says in a dangerous tone, but I can see the small smirk he’s trying to hide. I’m slowly melting this bad boy exterior. Maybe if I can make him laugh, he won’t off me in my sleep.
The bell rings, and I head out the door after dropping off our quizzes. Suddenly, a strong hand covered in tattoos grabs my arm, and I turn around to find Maddox has caught up to me.
“Hey, little Wrath, you got plans later?”
“Yeah…” I reply, not sure where this is going. Maddox never speaks to me outside of class. “Class. Dinner. Homework. Sleep. Really riveting stuff.”
He leans against a column in the middle of the hall like he owns the building—blocking the people who were walking right behind us and making them move around. “You ever think about penciling in ‘study with Maddox’ somewhere in that thrilling itinerary?”
I narrow my eyes. “Is that a proposition or a trap?”
He smirks, and it’s not fair that he looks that good doing it. “Neither. Just a simple offer. I’m not doing too hot in this class. As silly as it seems, I still need to graduate from SinVail.”
“Shocking,” I deadpan. “Sarcasm and murder don’t translate well to diplomacy?”
He lets out a soft laugh. “Something like that. I guess diplomacy has its value when brute force doesn’t work. Figured a Wrath would understand the struggle. Thought maybe you could help me out. In return, I’ll brew you something. Alchemy’s kind of my thing. I’mpretty much a protegee in the art. A stamina potion, truth tonic, hair-growth serum—whatever your heart desires.”
